Dark Pasts
by Carlough
Summary: Deep within the Ark, secrets dwell, horrible secrets that were supposed to stay hidden. When a member of the Ark's crew has a close call, these secrets are uncovered and the past is investigated. It seems that not even the noble Autobots are above murder.
1. Lost

**This will be a small fic, only a few chapters. I'm taking liberties with timelines from G1 here, so don't yell at me for the Ark's "original" crew not being from G1, and the G1 crew being the current crew. This takes place in the '07 verse, though you can't tell here. There are OCs, but they're necessary to the plot; I couldn't use canon characters for the parts. Well, that's all, except to say that I got the inspiration for this came from pondering over the story ****Alone in the dark**** by **_**Syntia13**_**. Well, I hope you enjoy this!**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Transformers or any of its characters; I do own anybody you don't recognize.**

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Bumblebee cried out in pain, his recently fixed but still damaged vocalizer being stressed even further by his agonized wails.

It had been another typical run-in with the Decepticons that had become atypical when a stray shot had hit the young scout square in the chassis, dangerously close to his spark. Ratchet had been at his side instantly, assessing the damage and finding him to be in critical condition. If something wasn't done soon, they could lose the youngest Autobot.

Bee had been rushed back to the Ark in Ratchet's alt form. Once there, he was quickly unloaded in the med bay and the medics got to work, moving furiously to stanch the flow of energon pouring from Bumblebee's chassis.

Examining the wound, Ratchet cursed as he saw the damage done to the scout's spark chamber. It was severely cracked and a chunk was missing from one side, revealing the desperately flaring spark within which was dimming all the while. Picking up speed, Ratchet attempted to stabilize the distressed spark, in fear that it may not last much longer in its current condition.

The yellow minibot's optics began to dim, despite Ratchet's fervent protests and curse-filled demands for him to stay conscious. If he lost consciousness, then they could lose him for good.

As hard as he'd tried to stay online, Bee felt himself begin to drift, and the lovely darkness that was surrounding him soothed the pain; he could feel it ebbing away in waves. Whispering a mental apology to Ratchet for not following the CMO's orders, he let himself fall into the calming abyss.

Onlining his optics, Bumblebee surveyed his surroundings. He found himself sitting against a wall in some corridor of the Ark, one that he noted confusedly that he vaguely recognized as being near the rarely accessed rear of the Ark, an area only used for storage.

Vorns ago, before Earth, even before Bumblebee had been created, back when the Ark was first constructed, these back rooms had held purpose. The original crew of the Ark, the very first, had used these rooms for all sorts of purposes, from personal quarters to training rooms, even an older, smaller Rec. room was held here. Now these once well-used rooms were abandoned in favor of the newer, more modern ones in the newer sections of the Ark, and the entire section of the Ark was avoided, only used for the storage of items that nobody really planned on seeing ever again.

Bee felt almost bad for the rooms, though he knew that logically the inanimate areas held know emotion or sentience, but still, the thought of them, dejected and unused when they'd once been inhabited and full of life, it made him sad. For some reason everyone seemed to avoid the entire area, staying as far away from it as they could if they could manage it. Bumblebee had done the same, though he assumed everyone avoided the area because, like him, it made them sad. Some of the mechs, when asked, would claim that it made them feel weird, like they were intruders...or like they were being watched.

The scout couldn't quite figure how he'd gotten from the medbay to the eerily quiet hallway, but the thought seemed to slip from his thoughts like grains of loose sand, quickly disappearing from the Autobot's CPU altogether.

His helm flew up as he heard a sudden noise, muffled, but still audible if he turned up his audios. It sounded almost like...crying? Yes, he definitely heard sniffling and a few soft sobs. His spark ached for whoever felt so depressed and anguished, and Bee, being the kind-sparked minibot that he was, went to comfort this poor being.

Listening for the sound, he located its source as one of the abandoned rooms, one full of old crates and objects that hadn't seen the light of day or a living being in too many vorns to count. The crates may have interested the scout at another time, but now he was focused solely on the mech sitting atop one, faceplates pressed in his servos, sobbing so morosely that it tore at Bumblebee's spark.

"What's wrong?" he asked the other in a soft, concerned tone. He was surprised when the other's helm flew up, bright, almost excited optics looking around desperately before finally landing on Bee. Bright _red_ optics.

"Decepticon!" Bumblebee shrieked. He immediately tried to shoot at the other, before finding his weapons systems to be offline.

The other mech visibly deflated, looking so very miserable. "That's all they ever think, all they ever say," he muttered sorrowfully. "They see the optics and they judge me, they attack me. Nobody ever talks, nobody ever listens, and they never stay. Nobody ever stays with me. I've been alone for so long, so long. It hurts; it physically hurts, in my spark. They look at me and they reject me. When somebody passes through, they ignore me. Nobody wants me around. Nobody cares." He began to sob brokenly once more.

Bee immediately felt guilty, and he went to comfort the poor mech, placing a servo on the other's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean...it's just, you're a Decepticon. What're you doing on the Ark?"

"What indeed," he murmured softly. Looking up with hopeful optics, he said, "I'm Echo. What's your designation?"

"Bumblebee," the scout responded, glad that the other was cheering up. Finally taking the time to really look at him, Bee noticed that he was very young, around Bee's age, and was colored a deep red, with an odd looking Decepticon insignia on his chassis.

It was definitely Decepticon, but it looked somehow...different, but he couldn't place how. It looked..._old._

"So, you've been here for a while?" Bee asked, trying to draw Echo's thoughts from whatever had been upsetting him so much. At the other's nod of confirmation, he inquired, "How come nobody's caught you yet? I mean, Red Alert – that's our security director – anyway, he has cameras everywhere, even in the back rooms. He freaks out at any potential Decepticon threat; how'd you keep from being seen?"

The mech gave Bumblebee the oddest, most unreadable look, like he couldn't quite believe what Bee was asking him. He then shook his head, as if to physically clear it of thoughts, and said, "I told you, everybody ignores me. Trust me; I'm no threat, at least not anymore. You have nothing to fear from me."

"But you're still a Decepticon," Bee persisted. "Why are you here and not with the rest of your faction?"

Echo once more gave him that unreadable look. "They have no reason to look for me. Don't get me wrong, they look after their own, and they don't leave anyone behind, no matter what you Autobots insist. But if they came...I couldn't go with them. Bumblebee, I can't leave this place. I can never leave."

"Why not?"

The Decepticon just shook his helm, and Bee knew he wasn't going to get an answer. Another thought occurred to him, and he said, "No offence, but you don't seem much like a Decepticon. Why'd you even join up with them?"

Echo looked at him again, and this time he showed a tiny smile. Chuckling softly, he told the other, "They practically raised me. My creators, I have no idea what happened to them. They died, they abandoned me, I don't know and frankly I stopped caring long ago. The Decepticons took me in when I was just a youngling; I can barely remember a time before them. No matter what everyone thinks, they aren't all bad."

Bee took in this information, reeling at how similar it was to his own situation with the Autobots. Suddenly he felt a wrenching in his spark, a yanking, as if his entire being was being folded around that one point in his spark and then was being sucked through a hole there. He gasped at the odd sensation. Echo gave him a sad smile.

"Ah, you're going back. That's good; he can't hurt you there. No, only me. It was nice to talk to somebody. I haven't gotten to do that in a long time. I've been so lonely..."

"Echo, wait, what are you talking about? Who can't hurt me? Who's going to hurt you? Where am I going?" Bee was very confused, and he was filled with worry for his new "friend".

"You're going home," was all the Decepticon would say.

"What do you mean? The Ark is my home and I'm already here!"

"Bumblebee, there are a lot of things that you don't understand, and I pray to Primus that you'll never need to. Please, just let yourself go back and forget about this, about me. Go live your life; be happy, fall in love, have sparklings, anything. Whatever you do, stay away from these rooms, okay? It's not safe. It's harder for him to reach out to there, but if people come to these rooms, he can pull it off. He should leave you alone, but if he knows you spoke to me... Just stay away; tell your friends, too."

"Who?! Echo, who are you talking about? Who is he?!"

"I can't tell you," Echo said, fear in his red optics. "If he finds out about even meeting you...it would be worse if I told, for the both of us. Things are bad enough as it is... Please, Bumblebee, you need to go!"

Bee knew it was time to go. Wherever he was supposed to go, he knew he would be forced to leave soon. "Wait, Echo, you can come with me!"

Echo looked straight into his optics, his faceplates a picture of pure sorrow. "No, Bee, I can't. I can never leave here, remember? It's my curse...and his. We can never leave this place, but you can, and you need to go, now."

The scout felt the pulling increase and he knew that the young Decepticon spoke the truth. "I'll find a way to help you, I swear!" he promised, bright lights flashing in his optics though the room was filled with shadows.

Echo watched him gloomily and lifted a servo in farewell. "Goodbye, Bumblebee. If you're lucky, you'll never see me again."

"Echo!" Bee exclaimed, feeling himself being pulled through with one final, harsh tug, the phantom sensations making him feel as if someone had reached into his spark, grabbed on, and pulled backwards, dragging him with it. His vision swam with colors; he could no longer see Echo, or the room, or anything for that matter. With a final burst of light, his optics onlined swiftly to see Ratchet's worried faceplates.

"We've got him!" the medic called, and all mechs present relaxed some, relieved. "Someone go tell those slaggers outside my medbay so they'll go away. Bumblebee's going to be alright."

"Ratchet?" the yellow mech asked groggily. His head was pounding and his processors ached like all get out.

"Don't you ever do anything like that again!" the medic admonished the minibot. Bee didn't even try to argue that his injuries weren't his fault. It wasn't worth it, and they all know who would win that conversation.

"If you weren't in such a sorry state already, I would be throwing a wrench at you right now. You had everybody worried sick; Sam is terrified, Mikaela too." Ratchet's faceplates softened almost imperceptibly. "We lost you for a while there. We thought you were gone for good."

Bee nodded, sorry to have worried everybody. A thought hit him, making him ask, "What about Echo? Is he okay?" Ratchet looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Who are you talking about? Echo? I don't know any Autobot named Echo."

"No, he's a Decepticon. I know we don't help them usually, but you've got to understand, someone's hurting him, is going to hurt him. We have to help him!"

"A Decepticon called Echo?" Ratchet asked, racking his CPU for any files on such a mech. Now that he thought about it, the designation was somewhat familiar. Walking to the medbay doors, he opened them and saw that most of the crowd had dissipated with the good news. Optimus and Ironhide had remained, just as Ratchet had expected. They'd practically raised Bumblebee; they wouldn't leave until they'd seen for themselves that he was okay. He ushered them into the medbay, closing the doors behind him.

"Do either of you know of a Decepticon designated 'Echo'? Bee claims to know him." All optics turned towards the scout.

Bee added to the description. "He's about my age, kind of a dark red color, maybe a little bit taller than I am."

The two thought for a minute, and Ironhide said, "I think I know who he's talking about." Moving to a computer located in the medbay, he accessed it and pulled up the enemy files. Moving through them, he seemed to be searching for somebody before he pulled up a file and stepped back, showing it to the others.

It had all the information the Autobots knew on the mech, as well as an image capture of him that had obviously been taken from afar. When Bee saw the familiar red form and the red optics, looking at something in the distance, obviously unaware of the image being recorded, he exclaimed excitedly, "That's him!"

"That's impossible," Ratchet stated firmly.

"How?" Bee asked, confused.

"Bumblebee," the Prime began. "That image capture was taken a long time ago, a _very _long time ago. When that capture was taken, Ironhide wasn't much older than you are now."

"No, that's not possible. I met him; he was sitting right next to me! He looked just like he does in that image capture!"

Ironhide took over, saying, "Bee, that image capture was taken right before Echo was taken prisoner. He was held on the Ark, and according to files he just disappeared. We'd believed that he'd escaped, but we never saw him again, in battle or otherwise. Then the Decepticons came looking for him – they lead a whole crusade, storming the Ark and ripping it up trying to find him. They hadn't seen him either."

"So?" Bee didn't know where this was going, but he knew he didn't like it.

The elder mechs shared a look. Prime said softly, "Bumblebee, from what I know of him, he wasn't the type to desert the Decepticons, and nobody ever saw him again."

He looked at the short yellow mech sadly before saying three words that chilled the scout to his very spark.

"Echo is dead."

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**Well, here's the first part, hope you liked it. Please review!!!**


	2. Skeptic

**Well, here's more. Thank you so much to all who've favorited, alerted, or reviewed for this.**

_**Mandy**_**: Thanks! I hope this is to your liking!**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Transformers or any of its characters; I do own anyone you don't recognize, like Echo. And "Him".**

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"What?" Bee asked, slowly, carefully, dangerously. This was insane; a cruel joke, that was it. Echo WAS NOT dead because Bee had just seen him! He'd been _right there_. Pit, he'd even patted the Decepticon's shoulder. He was _alive_! He had to be!

"Bumblebee, the Decepticon Echo has been dead for millions of Earth years," Prime continued. "He was deactivated early in the war."

"Then how did I meet him?" Bumblebee asked defiantly. "He was there!"

"Your body was under an intense amount of stress," Ratchet said patiently, surprising for him. "You almost died...wait, _you almost died_."

"Yes, Ratch, we get it." Ironhide wasn't sure what the medic was going on about. "We all know that."

"No, you're not listening," the CMO admonished. "Bumblebee almost died. What happened to him is sometimes referred to by humans as 'dying on the table', when a patient technically dies during surgery, but is later revived. Many of those patients report having...supernatural experiences afterwards."

Ironhide scoffed at the medic. "You saying we have a ghost?"

"We have a ghost?" an excited voice asked. Wheeljack had just entered the medbay. His fins flashed as he spoke, showing his curiosity and apparent excitement.

"Ratchet thinks so," the weapons specialist said.

"I'm not ruling out anything," Ratchet sniffed. "It would explain how Bumblebee saw him when he 'died'."

"Bee died?" Now Wheeljack was confused, considering he could see Bumblebee right in front of him.

"For a short time, he was gone," Ratchet informed the inventor. "He claims to have met a Decepticon that we know must be deactivated."

"Seriously?" the inventor inquired, moving closer. He was a closet believer when it came to the supernatural.

"What happened, exactly?" Optimus asked the scout, trying to find out the whole story.

Bumblebee recounted his story. "I woke up in a hall where the back rooms are. You know, the old ones that nobody uses anymore? I went into one because I heard crying, and I met Echo. He was so sad. He said he'd been there for a long time, and that he was lonely. He said that everybody ignored him. We talked for a little bit, and then I felt this pulling sensation and he said I was going back, but when I asked what he meant he just said that I was going 'home'. Echo told me that there are a lot of things I don't understand that he hopes I won't have to, and that I was safe if I was 'there', meaning wherever I was going, because then 'he' couldn't hurt me." Bee pondered this statement over in thought before remembering something.

"Oh! He said to stay away from the back rooms; 'he' can reach out there and can hurt people, and I should warn my friends. Echo wouldn't tell me who 'he' was, though, but whoever he was talking about, they were hurting him."

"Echo? Who's Echo?" Wheeljack asked.

Ironhide pointed at the screen. "Our 'ghost', apparently; a dead Decepticon. That's his file."

Prowl entered the room, demanding to know why everybody wasn't doing their duties as they were supposed to be, and asked if they knew how much chaos the rest of the ship could potentially be in with almost all of the officers off in one room, and did he have to do everything himself because they were all slacking on their duties. Jazz, having been recently repaired by Ratchet after the events of Mission City, stood behind him, chuckling. Bumblebee's tale had to be explained again.

"Preposterous." That was the tactician's only remark, followed up by, "There's no such thing as ghosts. It's not logical; how could a spark remain after deactivation without a body to inhabit? Sparks got to the Matrix, on to the Well of Sparks or to the Pit. There is no 'in between'."

"Well then how do you explain my meeting a supposedly dead mech who was deactivated before my creation and who I'd never heard of before?" Bumblebee was sick of everybody telling him that he hadn't met Echo, he was sure it had been real. "And before you say I saw it in a file, check when Echo's file was last accessed."

Eyeing the scout with a neutral expression, the tactician did so. Sounding oddly surprised and for once speaking with emotion, Prowl said, "This file hasn't been accessed since it was last updated. That was about a vorn after the Decepticon's disappearance, to mark him off as deactivated."

Jazz laughed. "Looks like we got ourselves a ghost!" the saboteur exclaimed. Prowl looked at him oddly, and he said, "Yep, I believe in ghosts. You're forgetting, 'lil Bee here isn't the only one who's ever found himself knocking on Primus' door. When you die, freaky slag happens. Chances are Bee met this 'Con's ghost for real. He said he was trapped?" This question was aimed at the yellow minibot, who nodded in confirmation.

The third in command continued, "Then something's keepin' him here. If we wanna help him out, I suggest we find out what it is. Probably has got something to do with whoever's hurting him."

"We should go to the back rooms!" Wheeljack exclaimed, fins flashing brightly. "We'll find the one that Bumblebee was talking about and we'll look for clues as to why Echo is trapped there!"

"We don't even know if any of this is true," Prowl began, but Wheeljack had already raced out the door in his excitement. He'd always wanted to meet a ghost. Sighing, the others went after him.

They reached the back rooms in record time, considering that Wheeljack, in his haste, had almost bowled over anyone in his path. Standing in the corridor, 'Jack turned to Bee and said, "Lead the way!"

The scout took in his surroundings and moved forward, moving down the corridor and hanging a right down another. He felt bad for not following Echo's fervent instructions not to enter the back rooms, but it was necessary to help his friend.

He stood in front of the door, listening hard. He couldn't hear anything from inside like he had before. Behind the scout, Ironhide froze in his tracks.

"_This_ is where you saw him?" he asked. Bee would have said that he was nervous had it not been _Ironhide_, who was never nervous or afraid of anything. The weapons specialist was exchanging glances with Ratchet, both watching the door carefully.

"What's up?" Jazz asked the pair. They shook their heads, waving away any concerns. Prowl stepped forward and entered in the access code for the door. It whooshed open. All stood at the threshold hesitantly, expecting angry spirits to attack them. When nothing happened, Bumblebee entered, immediately moving to the crate where he'd met Echo.

"It was right here," he announced, pointing to the crate. "We sat here and talked; that was it."

Everyone looked around the room, trying to find a ghost. There were none. The room was as dark as ever – the only lights in the back of the ship were the dim ones in the hallway; it was easier not to power the back rooms, considering nobody was ever back there. The crates were all coated in thick layers of dust that clogged one's intakes. The room was cold and had a feel about it, one of danger and malice that set everybody's sensors on end. Still, though, there were no ghosts in sight.

"Echo?" Bumblebee called softly. Nothing.

"Well, that's that." For some reason, Ironhide didn't look well. Neither did Ratchet. Both were fidgeting uncomfortably and eager to leave.

"I don't get it," Wheeljack complained, pondering. "How could Bee see him then, and now we can't...I've got it!" The fins on his helm flashed brightly, lighting up the shadowed area. "We need to simulate death!"

"Excuse me?" Prowl didn't like that idea at all.

"Okay, Jazz said that weird things happen in the 'Between', when you're not totally dead, but you're not alive, either. He said you see weird things. There are countless cases of both humans and Cybertronians claiming to see things while in a coma or stasis lock, or when they die and are resuscitated. Bumblebee met Echo when he was in the Between. If we simulate death, we could enter that Between! And I know a chemical that would work perfectly; it causes the body to believe it's dead, but the body won't grey because it's not truly deactivated. The conscious can still get to that Between without dying!"

"That's insane," Prowl scoffed.

"He may be on to something," Prime murmured, much to Prowl's shock.

"Prime!" the black and white exclaimed, indignant. Optimus ignored him.

"Wheeljack, has this chemical of yours been tested before, and can it be synthesized soon?"

The inventor couldn't believe Prime was considering his idea; neither could anyone else. "It's totally safe – I tested it a while back on a few unfortunate turbo-rats - as long as someone monitors the bodies' condition while they're under the chemical's influence and keeps them from harm. I even have an antidote to forcefully return someone to their body. I have a stash of the chemical and its antidote; I was saving them for a rainy day."

"Remind me to monitor your chemicals," Ratchet muttered, not being able to believe that his friend kept chemicals like this lying about for anyone to use. Primus above, what if the twins had found them?! Just the thought made him shudder. "Why would you even have something like that?"

Sheepishly, Wheeljack muttered, "I like ghosts. Okay, maybe I was watching a few too many shows on the supernatural, but still! The chemicals were just in case I ever wanted to try and meet one..." Nobody quite knew what to say to that.

"Would you please go fetch them?" Optimus asked the inventor. Prowl almost fell over as his logic circuits began to spark. "Please bring Perceptor and inform him of the situation. First Aid as well. We will need them to monitor our bodies." Nobody had ever seen Wheeljack as giddy as he was in that moment, running out the door to find the other mechs and retrieve his possibly explosive substances.

"You can't be seriously considering this!" Prowl exclaimed. Was he the only sane mech here? "This is reckless and irresponsible, and I can't condone any of you taking part in this, especially you, Prime. What if something goes wrong? What will happen to the Ark, to the Autobots, to the humans? We're not the same as turbo-rats; this substance has never been tested on Cybertronians before!"

"Well it's about to be," Prime stated firmly with an air of finality. "If there is a spirit trapped on this ship, then I want to release them from their prison and allow them to move on, to rest in peace. Decepticon or not, nobody deserves to languish here for all eternity." Prowl's logic circuits were beginning to glitch, and Ratchet had to threaten to hit him with a wrench to remind him that not all of his reality had changed, just the part where the Prime could be trusted to make safe, sane decisions. Oh well, that part of his reality had been sketchy for a while, anyway.

Wheeljack came bursting back into the room, dragging Perceptor and First Aid behind him. Both were bemused, and after hearing why they were being brought, they were protesting quite loudly. It was hard to believe that Prime himself would agree to the scheme.

"Is he serious?" Perceptor asked, nodding towards Wheeljack who was pulling chemicals out of subspace with less cautiousness than everyone would've liked.

"Yes," Optimus replied simply. "We would like you to watch over our bodies while we enter the Between to deal with out ghost problem."

As soon as Prime said "ghost problem", a cold breeze swept through the room. When their intakes expelled air, clouds of vapor were visible. Ice crystals began to form, clinging to the walls and to the mechs' own plating.

"Um, are there any vents around here?" First Aid asked, becoming thoroughly freaked out. "Any way a draft could come through?"

"There is absolutely no air circulation in this section of the Ark," Ratchet muttered, his faceplates slack in shock. "We stopped the vents here to save power. There are no windows or openings here, and even then, it's a sunny summer day outside. This should be physically impossible."

A terrible scraping noise could be heard, a loud shriek of a sound along with the tell-tale grate of metal on metal. Gaping nervously, First Aid pointed upwards to a place above Ratchet's head. Way up on the high ceiling of the room, the section above Ratchet was bathed in an ethereal light, though there was no source to it, and something was being carved into the metal without any apparatus to do so. Words were being written, each sound like a scream as they were painstakingly carved into the ceiling for all to see.

**LEAVE NOW! THIS IS NOT YOUR PLACE OR YOUR FIGHT!**

The screeching finally stopped and they all relaxed, apparently a little too early as it began once again, as if an afterthought. This time it lasted longer, each sound another shock of pain to the mechs' audio receptors.

**P.S. TO RATCHET THE MEDIC AND PROWL THE SKEPTIC: ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE HERE.**

**LOVE YOUR FAVORITE DECEPTICON,**

**ECHO**

With that, the message was finally done. They all could uncover their audio receptors.

"It's true," Optimus breathed. Bumblebee was beaming, Wheeljack was acting like a giddy sparkling, and Prowl's CPU crashed, the entire thing finally too much for his logic circuits and battle computer to handle.

**

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I planned to get more done in this chapter, like mention who "he" is. Oh well. There should be more soon. Please review; I'll love you forever if you do! ;)


	3. Revealed

**And here we are, chapter three. Echo makes a return appearance and...things happen. Read and you'll see. Without further ado (barring the disclaimer), I give you, Chapter Three.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Transformers or any of its characters; I do own anyone you don't recognize, like Echo. And "Him". I don't own the Clapper, but I did do a project on it.**

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Wheeljack clapped his servos together. "Okay, who's ready to simulate death?" Everybody looked at him blankly, still in shock. Prowl didn't, but that's because Ratchet was still trying to bring him back online. "What, his little note scared you guys? He was just saying hi! Plus he was trying to warn us. See, he's a _nice_ ghost!"

"He's also a 'Con," Ironhide grumbled, looking around cautiously in case Echo decided to make a repeat appearance.

"Well he was fine with me!" Bee defended his "friend". You guys just need to stop being so mean to him and saying he doesn't exist!"

"Oh, we're being mean to the Decepticon. That's a new one." Ironhide was really pushing his luck; if he didn't cut it out soon, Echo would be giving him his own personalized note.

Prowl came back online, optics shuttering blearily. He sat up, took one look at the ceiling, and would've fritzed again had Ratchet not wielded a wrench over his helm menacingly, a silent threat as to what would happen should he offline again.

"Perceptor, First Aid," Prime addressed the pair. "I believe you've been told why your presence is needed?" The two nodded. "Good. We shall be embarking into the 'Between' momentarily to hopefully assist the trapped spirit of a deceased Decepticon. You shall watch over our bodies while we're gone and forcefully return them to consciousness if necessary. Understood?" More nods. "Very well then."

"Prime, you mean to have all of your officers offline at the same time?" Prowl still couldn't believe the situation.

Optimus nodded. "That includes you, Prowl. Besides, Red Alert is an officer and he'll still be here. He can handle the twins better than the rest of us, too. Everything should be fine. If anyone asks, we're in a very private meeting. If they ask where, we'll tell them that it's top secret. If the government thinks that we're plotting against them, we'll let the twins break a few driving laws to distract them." The only thing keeping Prowl from frying his circuits was the wrench being shoved in his face.

"Is everyone prepared?" Prime asked, checking the assembled group of mechs around him. Prowl was still muttering about it being "utter lunacy", Ironhide and Ratchet were still exchanging glances, Wheeljack was rocking back and forth on his pedes like an excited youngling, Bumblebee and Jazz were regaling each other with their tales from the Between; yep, everyone was ready to go.

"Could you please administer the serum?" Wheeljack handed the substance to First Aid, who held it away from himself as if it could explode at any moment – which, knowing Wheeljack, it very well could. The chemical was placed into syringe-like tools and was then injected directly into the mechs' tubing, after the mech had lain on the floor. Soon all seven of the soon-to-be inter-plane travelers were feeling the chemical's effects as their CPUs began to fade in and out. There was no bright light as humans always thought; no, it was just floating in a comforting shadowy abyss, and then...

"Oh, you _are_ a stupid bunch of fraggers, aren't ya?" A young voice scoffed audibly, eerie in the way that it _didn't_ echo in the large, high ceilinged room, but seemed to resonate all around them, in them, _through_ them. An unwelcomed pede nudged Optimus in the side. "C'mon now, I know you're all online. I can hear your vents, you know. I'm not completely inept, just partially. Seriously, don't make me step on you." The voice took on a semi-threatening tone. Optimus onlined his optics and sat up, seeing his comrades doing the same.

"Now there's a good Autobot!" the voice cheered from somewhere to the Prime's left. He turned to face a pair of glowing red optics peering through the gloom. He couldn't quite make out the colors or features of the mech, but the shape appeared to be not much taller than Bumblebee. _Echo_, Optimus thought. This must be the spirit they kept hearing about. _I guess he _is_ real_.

"Echo!" Bumblebee cried happily. The mech turned toward Bee, his form still bathed in shadows. He sighed loudly.

"Bumblebee, did I not tell you to stay away from this place? I mean really, you decided it was a good idea to 'simulate death'? Are you all thrill junkies, or are you just suicidal? Or is it a bit of both?"

"Well aren't we chipper?" Ratchet grumbled.

"Yes, we are," Echo replied monotonously through gritted dental plates.

"Why is it so dark here?" Wheeljack inquired, taking in the room surrounding them with avid curiosity. It looked exactly as it did in the living world, except it was much darker without the dim light from the corridor.

"Oh, excuse me, I'll fix that. Clap on!" the mech called out, clapping his hands together. Nothing happened. "Slag, still gotta fix that," he muttered. Everyone stared at him. He held out his hands in front of him, barely visible in the darkness, and one of his crimson optics quirked.

"What? Nobody's ever heard of the Clapper before? Really? Do you even watch television?" Echo mock-sighed loudly. "And _I'm_ the dead one."

"You watch television?" Wheeljack asked, poised as if ready to take notes at a moment's notice.

Echo waved his arm carelessly. "Spare airwaves pass through, I pick up on them; it's one of the few things that keep me sane anymore. As you can see, it isn't working out too well." He laughed in a semi-deranged manner and then stopped abruptly, the glow of his optics showing that his features were suddenly completely stern and serious.

Echo gesticulated at the area around him, and a dim ethereal glow coated the room, revealing Echo to be a dark red, almost maroon mech with black servos and pedes. A few of the Autobots took in air sharply as they saw the original Decepticon symbol adorning his chassis. That symbol hadn't been used in thousands of vorns; younger mechs had probably never seen it.

"How did you do that?" Fascination was etched into Wheeljack's features.

"Didn't you get my message? Anything is possible here." Echo laughed mirthlessly. Again, he sobered abruptly.

"Seriously, though, you gotta get out of here, like, now. He figured out that I had a visitor, and he was not happy." Gasps could be heard as Echo turned his right side to them, from where it had previously been sheathed in the shadows. The plating was dented and scratched, and that was what plating remained. Chunks were missing, revealing damaged and sparking wires beneath. Singe marks covered the plating's edges, as if it had been blasted away.

Noticing the stares, the Decepticon explained sheepishly, "When he gets upset, he uses me for target practice. It doesn't help that he's a trigger-happy fragger or that he's always angry. Or that he hates me, for that matter. Don't worry; it should heal itself up in a few days. The damage just disappears after a while, but it hurts like all get out while it's healing up. But you guys, you aren't tied to this place; you get fried and that's that, your body's an empty, sparkless drone for the rest of eternity."

"Who does this to you?" Optimus Prime softly inquired, wincing at the damage the young 'Con had taken and noticing how he stiffened at the questioning.

"Why don't you ask those two?" Echo shot back defensively, crossing his arms across his chassis and nodding towards Ironhide and Ratchet. The two looked more nervous than ever before.

"What's he talking about?" Bee asked quietly. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer; he had a terrible feeling in his spark.

"Yeah, what's all this?" Jazz seconded the scout's question.

"Um." Ironhide was off to an oh-so-intelligent sounding start. "There were, ahem, rumors regarding Echo's, ah, disappearance..."

"Rumors? Why didn't I hear of them?" Optimus had been with the Ark almost since the beginning, except for during its earliest vorns when the crew had been run by one of his subordinates while he dealt with some politics; that was before a full-out war had been declared and most politics became useless.

"It was, er, before you joined the Ark," Ironhide kept stumbling through his sentences. He rubbed the back of his helm self-consciously and suddenly found his pedes to be extremely interesting.

"C'mon 'Hide, spit it out!" Jazz exclaimed, sick of how the weapons specialist tried to sidestep the actual explanation.

Taking over for the suddenly mute black mech, Ratchet supplied, "Many mechs who were aboard the Ark at the time believe that Echo's disappearance wasn't, well, actually a disappearance, and that it wasn't of his own accord."

"What are you saying?" Prowl asked with narrowed optics, doing his best to put together the pieces of the story.

Ratchet sighed sharply in annoyance and shouted, "I'm saying that the common belief is that he was murdered!"

Silence reigned supreme as all tried to fully understand the ramifications of that statement. It was broken by slightly hysterical laughter from Echo, who had placed himself upon the same crate where he'd first spoken to Bumblebee. "Finally the noble Autobots admit it! Ha!"

"What are you talking about?" Prowl spoke monotonously, but with a dangerous undertone. His overly logical processors had put together the most likely scenario it could, given the information, and he did not like the conclusion. After all, he disliked anything that insulted the Autobot's honorable heritage.

"There are a lot of things about the early Autobots that we aren't proud of," Ratchet explained softly, much calmer now. "Many things that we try to cover up because if they became common knowledge they would send the entire race into an uproar. Have you ever heard a Decepticon prisoner speak of torture, of how they could take any sort of pain you put them through?" There were nods all around. Many 'Bots found it confusing when 'Cons said such things. Torture, for any reason, was a Decepticon trait. Autobots didn't torture others, enemy or not.

"The Autobots didn't always believe in passive aggressive forms of retrieving information from prisoners." This was another blow to the mechs assembled. Echo was grinning like a loon, so excited to have his story finally told despite the impending danger.

Prime spoke for them all. "Ratchet, are you implying that the Autobots would resort to...torture?" He was the Prime; he couldn't believe he hadn't been informed of these things! Torture, in his own ranks? It made his tanks churn sickeningly. He hated battle and injury during combat. Injuring defenseless prisoners disgusted him.

"That's exactly what I'm implying, Prime," Ratchet said solemnly.

"How does any of this pertain to Echo?" Prowl asked. Relevance was key for him.

"I'll take over for you, medic," Echo said, addressing Ratchet. To the rest, he said, "Do you know why I'm trapped in this room? It's because this is where I died – where I was killed. Has it occurred to any of you what this room might've been used for?" All mechs shook their heads in the negative except for the weapons specialist and CMO, who looked away guiltily. Echo took perverse pleasure in informing them.

"This room, it was used for 'interrogation', as it said officially. Unofficially: it was a torture chamber. This is where I was murde-"

Echo was silenced by an energon-curdling roar of fury, one that shook the room to its very foundations, rattling the frames of its occupants.

"He's here!" the mech all but whimpered, all of his bravado lost. "You need to go! He's gonna kill you for real if you don't move _now_!"

"Who is it?!" Bumblebee shouted, while at the same time Jazz screamed, "How do we go back?!"

"Ask those two!" Echo gestured wildly at Ratchet and Ironhide. Turning to them, he said quickly, "You know who you all think did it but you didn't want to say? Yeah, he's the one who did it. Explain later, once you're all back to the living realm and far from these rooms; he still has pull in these rooms, even in the other realm. If I can scrape a message into the ceiling, he can do things, too. Bad things. So go! Just imagine yourself alive, your systems running, things like that! GO!"

The room was shaking, bits of dust and metal falling. A figure was forming in front of them, born from the shadows. The mass of darkness gave birth to a body with limbs, a head, servos, pedes. Everything was starting to solidify.

With all of his might, Optimus Prime thought of himself lying on the floor of the storage room – torture chamber – with his men waking around him, his systems whirring to life, Perceptor and First Aid standing above them worriedly. When he shuttered his optics again, he was onlining them to the same sights and feelings that he'd imagined. The room was no longer shaking; the message was still engraved in the ceiling. The shadowy mass was gone – and so was Echo.

A frigid draft blew through the room. The Prime shuddered at the pure feeling of malice that it carried with it, feeling as if it was seeping into any and all crevices in his armor, curling around his spark and squeezing harshly.

"Quickly, we must leave these rooms!" he instructed his comrades. All complied swiftly, having felt the presence as well. The group vacated the area in favor of Prime's office, where Perceptor and First Aid were quickly informed of the new occurrences.

"So who killed Echo?" Perceptor asked the group who'd entered the "Between". They looked towards Ratchet and Ironhide for answers.

"Silverstrike," Ironhide said softly.

"Who?" all asked simultaneously, having no idea who that mech was.

"Silverstrike," he repeated. "He was an Autobot."

Prime felt as if someone had poured chilled coolant fluid along his back plates. "Silverstrike? You can't mean..."

"We do mean," Ratchet replied soberly. "Silverstrike: the Ark's first commander."

* * *

**Yes, Silverstrike was the "subordinate" who controlled the Ark before Optimus took it over. And we'll see what necessitated that take over next chapter. For now, please review! It'll make me write more quickly! (Seriously, it will) Also, any ideas, feel free to tell me! I take any and all suggestions or request, for this story or otherwise!**


	4. Gone

**This chapter came out pretty long, but I had a lot I wanted to get done here. I can't think of much too say right now, so.... here's the chapter!**

_**Kelly**_**: This one isn't as short as you'd like, but you'll live; I've seen those huge books you read. I thought you'd appreciate a ghost story. You read enough of them! ;)**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Transformers or any of its characters; I do own anyone you don't recognize, like Echo and Silverstrike. I don't own **_**Ghostbusters**_** or the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, but I kind of wish I did...**

* * *

"Who?" Jazz asked, bemused and not able to figure out why the three oldest mechs in the room had frozen so suddenly.

Prowl looked at him chidingly. "Jazz, have you not read up on the Ark's history?" At the saboteur's sheepish grin, he expelled some air through his vents, a Cybertronian sigh, and explained, "If you'd read all of the reports that you were given upon becoming an officer, you would be well aware that Silverstrike is the designation of the Ark's interim commander who controlled the ship during its first vorns while the Prime was dealing with, what was at that time, the current political situation."

"And now he's a ghost," Jazz quipped brightly. Prowl looked upwards at the ceiling at his mate's comment, causing the other to pout. "Aw, c'mon, he's obviously dead. We saw him do his shadow-thingy back there, and I don't know what live mech could pull that off."

"Hey, how did he die, anyway?" Wheeljack asked. "I mean, if Echo is stuck in that, er, room because that's where he died, then was Silverstrike killed there too? And why are they stuck there? Obviously not every mech who's killed is trapped where they were deactivated."

Ratchet said exasperatedly, "Slow down, 'Jack. One question at a time."

"He does make a good point." This was from Perceptor, who had been surprisingly quiet during the whole ordeal. Frankly, everyone had expected him to have the most problems believing their current predicament, due to his firm beliefs in only things that could be scientifically proven. The microscope noticed the others' stares and, guessing the reason behind them, explained, "I saw the scrapes in the ceiling and the light, and I felt the draft and the dark feelings. If so many of you claim to be supposed witnesses to some sort of preternatural phenomenon, then it would make sense that there is some sort of Between, and that in that Between there are some trapped sparks that have been residing on the Ark for some time now. That is, of course, assuming that we're not all suffering from some form of mass hysteria, and that we aren't all going, as Captain Lennox would so crassly put it, 'bat-shit insane'."

Shock showed across all of the faceplates of the mechs present. Jazz then broke out laughing, which started Wheeljack and Bumblebee laughing, too. Even Optimus and Ratchet were smiling, while First Aid had a tiny grin and Ironhide pretended to be impervious to laughter. Only Perceptor and Prowl remained straight-faced.

"What do they believe to be so amusing?" Perceptor asked the SIC with all sincerity.

"Perceptor," the black and white began with the same serious tone that the scientist had employed. "They are a pack of immature sparklings in the bodies of the Autobot elite."

"Ah," the smaller mech muttered, as if that explained it all, which, in a way, it did.

There were still some snickers of laughter in the room. Prowl, being Prowl, decided to put a stop to them and remind everyone of the grave situation they were involved in. "I don't know if any of you are recalling this, but we have just been informed that a deceased and well decorated Autobot allegedly murdered a Decepticon in cold blood, as the humans would say. Does this not affect any of you?"

Thankfully, they sobered after that statement.

Ratchet made a sound that was similar to a human clearing their throat. "Yes, well, to answer some of your questions, no, Silverstrike was not killed in the, um, interrogation room."

"Torture chamber," Jazz corrected him.

"Whatever you want to call it, he wasn't killed there!" Ironhide exclaimed impatiently.

"How did he die?" First Aid hadn't been very vocal so far, as he usually wasn't, so his soft inquiry surprised the others, similarly to how Perceptor's statement had.

"Killed by some 'Cons," the weapons specialist informed him gruffly, averting his optics in favor of staring at a wall.

"How?" First Aid persisted.

"Some 'Cons killed him, does it really matter?" It was obvious from the way that he kept looking away and trying to avoid the question that the answer to the question made Ironhide uncomfortable, and was thus probably important.

"Yes, I believe it does matter for them to know, Ironhide," Prime said quietly. "I myself have heard the story, but as I was not there, I believe that you and Ratchet should explain."

"Fine!" Ironhide snapped, crossing his arms defensively and leaning against Prime's desk. "It started about an orn and a half after Echo was captured in battle and taken Autobot prisoner..."

* * *

"Alert! We have an urgent security breach, Decepticon trespassers are on the Ark! All free mechs called to arms! Repeat, breach at the front entrance! Security breach at the front entrance!"

The security director could be heard throughout the Ark, shrieking over the ship's intercom system. He really wasn't cut out for a job in combat.

All across the Ark mechs could be found preparing for battle. As they grabbed their weapons and made for the front entrance they could be heard discussing the different ways they were going to tear apart the Decepticons for daring to set foot upon what they considered to be their home turf.

The main entrance was in shambles, currently being torn apart by the gestalt combiner team of the Constructicons, already formed into Devastator.

"Devastator?!" a mech shouted angrily and incredulously. Megatron wasn't known for randomly trying to attack the Ark, and even if he did attack the Ark, he never had set Devastator on them before. It didn't make much sense; any and all secrets kept on the Ark were near impossible to find and the codes protecting them were next to impervious. Added that the Ark didn't tend to carry any important information, the entire attack seemed pointless other than give the Autobots a chance to beat some 'Con aft. After all, the main entrance was kind of an obvious point to attack.

Devastator swung an arm, sending a nearby 'Bot flying in to the wall. Weapons were being discharged at the great Decepticon but didn't seem to faze him. A mech murmured to his comrade as they took cover, "Is it me or does he seem...angrier than usual?"

His friend scoffed, "He's a slaggin' 'Con with less processing power than a newly sparked youngling. Anger is about all he feels, ever."

The first still looked unsure. "Yeah, but most times it was normal rage, or normal for him. Now he seems absolutely furious, but I don't know why. All I know is that he's more dangerous than ever before."

"You worry too much," his friend chided him. His friend should have listened. He was one of no few Autobots that were injured or killed that orn.

Many of the Autobots on the Ark were naive and fresh from the Academy, having little to no experience in actual combat. They were hungry to show their capabilities and prove themselves in battle. This blind eagerness would be their downfall. Failing to think logically as to why the Decepticons would attack such a well guarded gate as the front one, they recklessly ran into the heat of the battle, each thinking that they were going to be the one to single-handedly take down the outraged Decepticon combiner. The carnage on the Autobot side of the battle was great. The only one to make it out relatively unscathed was the mech who had warned his comrade. His name was Ironhide, and he was the future Autobot weapons specialist.

* * *

"Wait, so what was up with Devastator?" Jazz interrupted. He had a notorious reputation that was almost as bad as the twins' for interrupting in the middle of a story.

"I was getting there!" Ironhide yelled at him. Calming slightly, he continued, "So everyone was getting their afts handed to 'em on a platter at the front gate, and we didn't exactly have a very competent security director at the time – this was before Red Alert came aboard, mind you – so nobody noticed what was happening towards the back of the ship..."

* * *

Astrotrain scoffed to himself. This was the Autobot elite, the group of mechs that blindly ran to the attack at the front gate that was quite obviously a distraction? He couldn't believe that they had ever been able to defeat the Decepticons. Granted, they must have someone with intelligence aboard if they'd been able to catch Echo. Then again, knowing most of the Ark's crew, they had probably overpowered the young mech with brute force. Echo was definitely on the small side, and in hand to hand combat no amount of training would be useful against mechs twice his size. It happened to every 'Con once in a while, and when it did, the rest of the faction would come to bail their comrade out. That's why they were here now; to get his lil' buddy back.

Echo had met Astrotrain when the triple changer had first joined the Nemesis' crew. The much smaller mech had been there for a while, being that he was practically raised by the crew with his primary caregivers being the Constructicon gestalt, which explained why they were so furious now.

The pair would never have actually met had it not been for a mix up in the assignment of rooms which would have attempted to make Astrotrain share a room with two others. Obviously the mech assigning rooms had never met the white and purple triple changer or bothered to read his full record; if he had, he would have noticed that it was clearly stated that Astrotrain was responsible for transporting his comrades in his alt modes, which clearly merited a large mech.

As fate would have it, a last klik decision had to be made regarding where Astrotrain would stay. Echo, then much saner and more mentally and emotionally stable than his deceased spark was currently, generously offered to share his quarters. At the time he had no roommate and had a room which could have comfortably fit two mechs Astrotrain's size. The reason for this was not exactly well known, but was one of the reasons that the triple changer had not originally liked his roommate.

While the Constructicons had been Echo's main caretakers, other 'Cons had also had a hand in raising the youngling, surprisingly enough, Megatron included. It was well known among the more seasoned Decepticons that Megatron had a place in his spark for Echo, despite many mech's comments as to the questionable existence of said spark. Echo, though he didn't realize it, was one of Megatron's favorites, which had inadvertently gotten him some of the better quarters. That was, of course, after he insisted for almost a vorn to both the Decepticon Lord and the Constructicons that he was old enough to have his own quarters with the rest of the soldiers. His oversized quarters and suspicious lack of roommate before Astrotrain were testaments to Megatron and the gestalt's disbelief of this and their not being ready to admit that the youngling was in fact an adult. Even evil Decepticons could suffer from empty nest syndrome.

Upon finding this out, Astrotrain was more than a little miffed that he was apparently stuck with Lord Megatron's spoilt little pet. He would have had an easier time hating the small red mech for his favored treatment if it weren't for the fact that Echo honestly didn't realize that he received preferential treatment, or rather, he did notice, but was quite exasperated with it. Apparently he'd put in a request for a room change or at least a roommate multiple times, but each request had always been ignored and deleted by the overprotective Decepticons. Having Astrotrain as his roommate had been his way of getting a roommate as to feel less different from the other soldiers while also going behind his superiors' backs and setting them up with a situation that they couldn't easily change; there was no other logical place to put Astrotrain, so they had to grudgingly allow him to stay with Echo.

That amount of cunning and subtle subterfuge had gained Echo respect from the triple changer. After that the pair had gotten along well, even to the point where Echo called Astrotrain "AT", claiming that his full designation took too long to say, and Astrotrain called Echo "Echs", which many confused mechs mistook for "X", and the pair just didn't care enough to correct them.

The laughable size difference also became a common joke around the Nemesis, considering that Astrotrain looked almost big enough to step on Echo, and some joked that AT would accidently sit on Echo one orn. Just because they could, the next orn Astrotrain came into the Rec. room with the almost-minibot-sized Echo perched on his shoulder. That scene was often repeated afterwards, simply because walking together had ended with Echo getting accidentally punted into the wall by Astrotrain's pede one too many times for their liking.

Astrotrain grinned at the fond memories and then shook himself, reminding himself of the task at hand. His best friend was an Autobot captive, and they had to bust him out. For once he was actually going to be involved in the fight and the rescue instead of just being the transportation. Now if he could only remember what room Echs was supposed to be in, he'd be golden. If he forgot now he'd be having a very painful meeting with Megatron's plasma cannon later, and that would only be after the Constructicons were done with him and after he'd finished mentally beating himself up. What was it? A-12? No, A-22, that was it! Echo was being kept in room A-22.

Internally pulling us a copy of the Ark's schematics, the triple changer compared the layout to his current location and began to make his way through the ship, shocked at the lack of mechs. He'd expected Devastator's distraction to work well, but not _this_ well. This was just plain pathetic. Pitiful, really. Maybe when the Prime took over, things would be different. For now, breaking into the Ark was just too simple. All the better for the Decepticons.

AT reached room A-22 and looked up, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. A storeroom, maybe? He'd just have to see. There was a lock on the door, one that could only be opened by keying in the proper code on the keypad next to the door. Tossing that idea, Astrotrain transformed his left arm in to a cannon that he was seldom able to use and blasted a hole in the door. There, that worked. He stepped through the gaping hole, ignoring the bits of melted, charred door remnants that fell to the ground as he did.

Stupid Autobots, they should reinforce their doors. No door on the Nemesis could be blown to pieces by a single cannon blast. After all, if they did, then how could they play the ever popular game of cannon tag? It was like regular tag, except you shot people to tag them. Quite simple, really, and it kept the medbay in use, along with other fun games, like smelting pool jumping and slag boarding, the former of which having been banned due to high amounts of casualties, and the latter being hard to play because it wasn't often that one found large piles of unused scrap metal to slide down anymore.

Once again realizing that he was getting off track, Astrotrain cleared his CPU of thoughts of popular games and took in the room in front of him. What he saw made his tanks churn violently. No amount of combat experience could have prepared him for the cruelty before him.

Energon coated the room. The walls had long streaks of it, always a large splatter farther up the wall with appendage like tendrils creeping down it from where the energon had dripped and then dried. The substance was dried to the floor, large purple stains crusted over in that disgusting way that only energon could dry, flaking off as the triple changer's pedes stepped into a long-dried puddle with a sickening, crackling crunch. He had no choice but to step in it, as there was no place clear of energon on the floor that could fit his large pedes.

There was too much energon here for it to have all been from one mech; no, many mechs had unwillingly contributed to this horrific art, almost beautiful in its surreal, delicate state. Had a human artist painted this scene, they would have been awarded for the image's haunting elegance. It would forever be imprinted in the triple changer's CPU.

Astrotrain was frozen by the thought of the sheer cruelty that would have had to take place for this scene to have been created, and he barely resisted the urge to purge his tanks. The Decepticons, however "evil" they were perceived to be, would never condone this. Lord Megatron would be disgusted if he saw it.

A terrible thought occurred to the purple and white mech: Echo was supposed to be here. Here, among all of this death? Astrotrain didn't want to imagine it, instead looking for signs of life.

Other than himself, he could sense no life here. The closest thing to it was a puddle of fresh energon on the floor. With a wrench in his spark, Astrotrain realized that the amount of energon was too much for an average sized mech to survive loosing. Echo was the only mech that was supposed to be kept here at the time, according to the Autobot records that one of their operatives had hacked, some new Communications Officer designated Soundwave, and Echo was smaller than an average mech...

The triple changer banished the horrible thought from his processors, refusing to even consider for a klik that his best friend was deactivated. It had only been a little over an orn, for Primus' sake! He couldn't be gone!

A deranged voice in the back of his CPU whispered, _It only takes a klik to kill somebody..._

Astrotrain told the voice where it could shove its declaration, ignoring the fact that he was talking to himself. He looked over the room again, doing his best to ignore the room's most obvious attribute – the copious amounts of energon – and instead trying to find any sort of room leading off of it, or a trap door of some sort. Any place where Echo could be.

The room had shackles attached to the walls, he noted numbly, and there were various vicious looking knives and blades in a corner, energon smearing their gleaming surfaces. He even spied some sort of whip curled on a hook on one of the walls. From what he had gathered, this room could be used for two things: a place for seriously kinky and processor damaged mechs to interface, or a torture chamber.

Knowing the oh-so-"noble" Autobots, it was probably the latter. Unlike the Decepticons, who would unabashedly broadcast their relationships to the high heavens in any way they saw fit, the Autobots were more prudish, choosing to keep their elicit exploits under wraps more often than not. They probably wouldn't keep a room specifically for their more _eccentric_ members. Then again, neither would the 'Cons. If you wanted to do something like _that_, then it was one of the few things you kept to yourself. Hey, sometimes there were sparklings about!

Did Astrotrain realize that he was a little off in the CPU? Yes, yes he did. He spoke to himself perhaps more than was normal or healthy, but he wasn't harming anyone with his own quiet insanity. It was an ongoing joke of his and Echo's that he was rubbing off on the smaller mech. Both of them made obscure references that nobody could quite understand, and both would stop in the middle of a fight to make small talk with their opponent; that was, the few times AT was actually in battle and not just carting around his comrades.

Realizing that his personal oddity was once again distracting him from the situation at hand, the mech forced himself to get up close to the energon encrusted walls in an attempt to find a seam or some other indication of another room. There were none. Echo was not here. Reluctantly and miserably, Astrotrain sent a message to his comrades that he could not locate Echo, and there was a high chance that they...wouldn't find him. Not alive, at least.

That was when Devastator had increased his vicious attack on the Autobots, when a young Ironhide had fought for his life and barely made it out online.

It was when a medic named Ratchet had faced his worst cases yet, and had performed such impossible medical miracles that he was soon promoted to the Autobot's Chief Medical Officer.

It was when the deactivated had to be accounted for.

It was when the Decepticons had reluctantly departed without their missing comrade.

It was when the deactivated body of the Autobot Commander Silverstrike was found among the carnage, as he had been one to blindly lead the young soldiers to their doom at the hands of the enraged Decepticons.

It was when Optimus Prime had to be called in to take over his post as the Ark's Commander prematurely, as his soldiers needed the morale boost of having their leader amongst them now more than ever.

It was when the Decepticons held a small ceremony for their lost comrade, adding his designation to a shrine to their fallen comrades, only being able to give him a commemorative plaque in the memorial as there was no body to be placed there.

It was when revenge on the Autobots was sworn.

It was when the Decepticons decided to torture Autobots just as their youngest had been tortured to death.

It was when the war between the Autobots and Decepticons became more than just a political argument and the beginnings of a rebellion.

It was when the struggle became a war, a war that the Autobots had inadvertently brought upon themselves, all because of the death of one, supposedly insignificant young 'Con...

* * *

"Wait! Are you seriously telling us that it was the _Autobots_ fault that the war is a war?" Jazz had been expecting to hear a lot of things, but that it was the Autobot's fault? That just didn't fly with him.

"I agree with Jazz," Prowl seconded. "If Echo's death was really one of the true catalysts in the war, then why had nobody heard of him before now?"

"It was a suspected catalyst," Ratchet said, sounding exasperated and world weary. "We never found his body, mind you, so we can't prove anything, but it was suspected. Now we have proof that he was killed by the Autobots, albeit without the body."

"How did you know what Astrotrain was doing?" Bumblebee asked. He was feeling a little shell-shocked after hearing the story. It pained him to think of so much pain being caused by Autobot servos, especially hearing up close and personal what must have happened to poor Echo.

"We only know from what we found on the few cameras that weren't knocked out," Ratchet explained, "But we do know that he was thoroughly searching the interrogation room during the attack."

"Torture chamber," Jazz corrected once again, ignoring Prowl's chiding look.

"I must say, one thing does not make sense in your tale." All optics turned towards Perceptor. The red microscope said, "Silverstrike was one of many killed in the fighting, so no one mech was singled out for revenge for Echo's demise. How can you assume that Silverstrike was the murderer?"

More shifty glances were exchanged between the CMO and the weapons specialist. Ironhide rubbed the back of his helm again and began uncomfortably, "Ah, well Silver wasn't exactly the...calmest of mechs. He was kinda violent, angry. Nobody would say anything negative to him 'cause he was famous for shooting the messenger, literally sometimes. A lot like what you hear about Megatron, actually."

"Why was I not informed of this?" Optimus was horrified to find that one of his trusted subordinates had blatantly abused his power and his mechs. If only someone had told him, he would have put a stop to it.

"I already told you, he had us all scared straight. Even the best warriors wouldn't oppose him, 'cause back then the normal punishment for disobeying or causing trouble wasn't a trip to the brig." Ironhide gave them all a meaningful look. They understood it; a normal punishment was an express ticket to the torture chamber.

"Silverstrike was often the one to dole out the punishments to the crew and he was the one to interrogate the prisoners," Ratchet spoke solemnly. "He enjoyed it too much for anybody else to attempt to stop him, for they feared that he'd go for them, next. I saw his work for myself, fixing up countless crew members that he 'punished'. Silverstrike, even if he came off as such a wonderful soldier and leader to his superiors, which is why they all remember him so fondly and actually mourned his loss, was a cruel tyrant who didn't care at all for his crew's lives or safety, as long as he got his next fix of torturing. From the few times I worked on him in the medbay, I can attest that he was mentally unstable and very much insane. I don't know how he ever made it to the rank of Commander, other than that he was two-faced."

"So what you're all sayin' is that the Autobot's old commander was a cold-sparker murderer?" Jazz asked bluntly.

"Pretty much," 'Hide responded with the same frankness that the saboteur had used.

"Where do we go from here?" Prowl questioned the Autobot commander. The others nodded, looking to Optimus for instruction. It was Wheeljack who answered.

"First we need to build a ghost containment unit, and then we'll get some of those EMF meters to tell when the ghost is around. And if he says that whatever you imagine will destroy you, don't think of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man!" Everyone stared at the inventor. He shrugged. "What? You've never watched _Ghostbusters_? The plan is foolproof!"

"Uh-huh." Jazz shook his head disbelievingly. "How about we try to figure out why Silver and Echo are stuck here in the first place?"

"I think I can answer that," a disembodied voice said in a deep, soothing tone. The Autobots simultaneously fell offline. They awoke in darkness, a world that only consisted of black in every direction. It was like the Between, but was lacking the feeling of danger that the Between held. Instead, it felt warm and safe.

"Primus!" Jazz exclaimed, rubbing his helm. He would have thought it would hurt, considering he had just fallen backwards and hit his head, but surprisingly he felt fine.

"Yes?" said the voice, which was coming from a tall, kind looking mech in front of them.

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**FYI, when 'Hide is telling the story, he only knows the things about Astrotrain that could be seen from the cameras. The inside information is what I decided to throw in to better explain Echo's background and relationship with the 'Cons for the reader's sake. Ironhide's audience only knows what happened on the recordings and what they could infer. For those who don't know, an EMF meter is a device that ghost hunters use that measures electromagnetic fields, or EMF (all that info is courtesy of Wikipedia; the rest is what I know from the awesome show **_**Supernatural**_**). If I missed a line break, please tell me (it's hard to remember all of the jumps). I hope you all liked the chapter, and I'd love if you reviewed!**


	5. Godly

**Sorry this took so long; this chapter just wasn't agreeing with me, and real life was putting up quite a fight, too. I'll say it now; this chapter refers to a higher being other than Primus and his, erm, sister (who you'll see about in this chapter). I myself am a Christian, and think of it as God, but you can put in whoever you want ( I refer to the being as male, but you can ignore that if you so wish). I am in no way forcing my beliefs on you, and I apologize if you are in any way offended. There are no direct religious references of any kind, only off-hand remarks made by characters in the story, nothing more. With that being said, on with the chapter!**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Transformers or any of its characters; I do own Echo, Silverstrike, and anyone you don't know.**

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If it hadn't been for the fact that any sort of violence, injury, or medical condition was null and void in Primus' personal alternate dimension, he was sure that Prowl's CPU would have crashed again. Perceptor's too, probably. It was a flaw in the two, their need for things to make perfect logical "sense", whatever that was, but it was a flaw that he loved about them. It made them, well, them! Primus loved each of his creations equally, and he loved everything about them, their strengths and their faults. Each creation was an individual in their own right and none held precedence above another to the Cybertronian god, no matter their social or political standing, no matter what they had or hadn't done, he loved them just the same. Even if one of his creations was lead astray, they would always come back to him in the end.

Despite what his creations liked to believe about the Matrix, about the Well of Sparks and the Pit, the two were one in the same, because Primus couldn't bring himself pass judgment on one of his creations in any way, no matter what evils they may have committed, murder included. He'd been with the "evil" creations their entire lives, as he was with all of his creations. He knew of their motivation, their reasoning, their hopes and beliefs, their pasts and their futures. Primus understood what lead them to do the things they did, however "immoral" those things may have been. Nothing of what a creation had done during their time upon Cybertron mattered to him; he welcomed each and every one of his creations with open arms when they returned to him, and he missed them when they were away from him, living their lives upon Cybertron. It had been when they left Cybertron that he was really miserable.

If Primus allowed himself to be too involved in his creations' lives, if he allowed himself to answer their every wish, desire and prayer, if he allowed himself to keep Cybertron a utopia by forcefully adjusting the behavior of his creations or infringing upon their free will, then yes, no wrong would ever happen, but his creations would never learn from their mistakes, never understand _why_ things were wrong or unacceptable, never move on with the knowledge of their past mistakes and use that knowledge to help others, to better their race and civilization. For this reason Primus had sworn to himself before making even the first life form on Cybertron that he would not control his creations' lives, even if they were making "bad" or dangerous decisions, even if he really, really wanted. It was due to this self-made oath that Primus had allowed the war between the Autobots and Decepticons to occur, despite his desperate wished that his creations could stop and listen to each other, could work through their differences without conflict, could be the brothers that they had been created as. Still, on Cybertron he could clearly feel each of his creations' sparks, feel them on and around his planetary form. It had been by far the worst moments in Primus' infinite existence when his creations had left Cybertron, left the planet's atmosphere and surrounding celestial masses, left _him_.

The moment that the last living Cybertronian had left the planet, abandoning the barren, dead wasteland that had once been so full of love and life, Primus had become truly miserable. As if to drive home the fact that his creations had left him, his annoying as the fictional Pit little sister felt the need to rub it in every possible chance she could, which was often, considering most of them had now taken up residence on her organic planet. Gaia knew just where to prod to rile him up.

A wavering vocalizer, that of one trying to speak and failing the attempt, reminded the god of his creations' presence. He looked towards the assembled groups, all looking shocked and none-too-comfortable. That kind of hurt, knowing that his creations were afraid of him. Then again, the old stories that used to be told before Cybertron's fall had depicted him as such a large, imposing figure. That would be because he kind of was.

To make himself appear less intimidating, Primus changed his form to that of a tall mech, taller than Optimus Prime, with royal blue paint and ethereal silver optics, the only part of the mech that revealed his godliness.

"H-how did you do that?" Prowl stuttered for possibly the first time ever, still attempting to think logically while all evidence pointed toward the highly impossible.

"I told you, I am Primus," the god said, not unkindly. He sent waves of calm toward the agitated tactician; anything to settle his beloved creation. "I believe the question that you would like to ask is why I have brought you here."

"Where is here, exactly?" Optimus Prime asked, finally having found his voice again. Primus smiled at the leader, so young to have taken on the duties of being a Prime.

Primus waved a servo nonchalantly. "Here, there, everywhere, nowhere. This place is what I make it, and what I make it is what it becomes. This place does not exist unless I will it to, and can not be accessed or found as it does not exist." The spirit of Cybertron enjoyed speaking in cryptic riddles, if only to amuse him by watching the looks of confusion on his creations' faceplates.

"Well that was enlightening," Jazz muttered dryly, receiving reproachful looks from his comrades in return. Primus chuckled at the saboteur's antics; the Autobots were always good for some fun.

"Care to tell us why we're here?" the TIC asked, deciding to be blunt. If their god wanted them dead, he would have deactivated them by now.

"You asked about Echo," Primus said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. Getting over their "Holy frag it's Primus!" induced stupors, the Autobots recalled that, yes, they had been asking why Echo and Silverstrike were trapped on the Ark when this had begun.

"You're going to tell us why they're on the Ark?" Ratchet asked cautiously. Talking to Primus wasn't so hard, as long as you avoided his optics, the one thing that really reminded you who he was.

"Yes, I believe I should." Primus exhaled softly, the almost regal sound seeming to echo in the abyss of nothing around them.

"You must understand, I swore an oath to myself that I would not interfere in the affairs of my creations. It was because of that oath that I allowed the war to begin and it is why Echo is trapped on the _Ark_. Echo was, indeed, murdered by your old commander, Silverstrike." Primus looked very pained to say this.

"Though I allowed it to happen, I did not want to stand by idly as Echo's spark returned to me prematurely. As much as I would have loved to have him back with me, it was not yet his time to return to the Matrix, and so he had to remain in the realm of the living. Being the odd entity that I am, I looked for a loophole in the promise that I swore to myself, something that would allow me to help Echo without breaking my promise. I found it. I only swore to refrain from interfering with my creations' _lives_; I made no such vow about their deaths. I could not directly return Echo to life – that would have been intervening in his life – but I could place him in the realm that you have dubbed as 'the Between', which, as you know, is where he resides currently. Silverstrike's presence in the Between was an unforeseen circumstance of chance."

Primus took a moment to take in his creations' reactions. They were all watching him with fascinated, riveted optics. He wasn't a half bad storyteller, no matter what his sister said.

"Silverstrike, regrettably, made some ruinous decisions in his life. When he killed Echo, well, nothing happened to him, actually. It was later, after he was killed himself, that he was trapped in the Between, not by myself, but by my father. He works in mysterious ways, my father. Not even I know what compelled him to allow Silverstrike to remain in the Between to injure Echo eternally, but I trust my father's judgment, and I know he must have has some sort of plan for the two. I believe that this plan was put into action when you, Bumblebee, entered the Between and made contact with Echo. You are now intricately tied with Echo's own future, and yes, he does have a future. What happens to it is up to you."

"Are you saying you'll bring Echo back to life?" Bee asked excitedly, blue optics wide in what humans would call a "puppy-dog stare".

"The future holds infinite possibilities," Primus said cryptically; being cryptic was fun! "All I can do while remaining in the bounds of my oath is to make you aware of the facts, and to instruct you in the proper direction."

"What must we do?" Prowl spoke stoically, like a knight preparing for a quest. Primus almost laughed at the image of the monochromatic enigma of a tactician in the garb of one of his sister's human knights from the "Medieval Era" that his errant mind conjured for him. Oh, but he would look funny in a flowing cape.

Bringing himself back to the situation at hand, Primus said, "It is possible to send Silverstrike completely to the Matrix. To do so, you must find a way to remove Echo from the Between; Echo is, in fact, one of the main reasons why Silverstrike remains in the Between, other than my father's insistence that I leave him there. Silverstrike, for reasons that not even I can fathom, blames Echo, his victim, for his death, most likely because the Constructicons killed him in their vengeful rage to bring justice to their adopted creation."

Primus had forgotten that the Autobots were not aware of the Constructicons' relationship with Echo when he dropped that tidbit of information. The looks on their faceplates were laughable.

"Silverstrike is in the Between because he will not rest until he gets his 'revenge', which he gets every time he injures Echo. To send him on, you need to remove Echo from the equation. Where you move him to, that is the real question. I cannot control that decision; that is up to Echo, and to you."

"How do we move Echo anywhere? What are we supposed to do, sling him over our shoulders and drag him outta the Between?" Oh, Primus had always found Jazz to be one of his most amusing creations, and with good reason. He smiled fondly at the saboteur.

"I'm sure that at least some of you know lore about ghosts and trapped spirits," the god said. "Do any of you know what the most common beliefs are for why a spirit is tied to a certain place?" Wheeljack perked up, raising his servo high above his helm like an eager youngling at the Academy. Primus nodded at him, saying, "Wheeljack, would you please inform the others?"

The inventor nodded happily; finally someone was letting him rant about the paranormal, and it was their god! This was so cool!

"Well," 'Jack began, head fins glowing happily, "A spirit is tied to a place when it has a great meaning to them in some way. It could be a place that was important to them in their life, or the place where their loved ones are currently residing, but in most cases it's the place where they died or the place where their body is, which is why people feel nervous or uncomfortable in graveyards or in haunted places."

"Exactly." Primus smiled warmly at the inventor, who would have blushed if he could; instead, he grinned beatifically behind his blast mask.

"So which is it?" Ironhide asked crossly, ignoring Ratchet's elbow which was now implanted in his side. Hey, this not-feeling-pain thing was pretty useful! "Why's Echo on the Ark? Is it 'cause that's where he died?"

"Partially, yes," Primus conceded, inwardly chuckling at the weapons specialist's relationship with the CMO. He always thought that they would make a good couple; he couldn't understand why the pair didn't seem to realize it.

"Well?" Ironhide raised an optic ridge as if to say 'I'm waiting'. Not even the god of Cybertron could make the gruff mech lose his bravado.

"If I told you, that would spoil the fun!" Primus chuckled aloud, unable to restrain his laughter any longer.

"You're not even going to help us?!" Ratchet fumed. The indignant look of his faceplates matched Ironhide's in such a way that Primus had to hold his sides as his peals of laughter increased.

"Great job guys, now our god is laughing at us. LITERALLY!" Jazz threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

"Now that is just rude!" a new voice said. It was a higher pitched voice than those of the Autobots present, more like that of a femme. It rang through the darkness, "clear as a bell", as the humans would say, and it held in it the same calming feeling that Primus' voice had.

Primus sobered, turning towards the newcomer. Shockingly, all he did was look mildly annoyed, if a great, peaceful god _can_ be annoyed. "Gaia, none of this is any of your business."

"What do you mean, it's not my business? They live on my planet! They may be your creations, Brother, but you don't have to treat the darlings as you do."

The owner of the voice stepped forward. It was a stunning woman; she appeared to be a human, but was too ethereally beautiful to be one. The fact that she was the size of a Cybertronian also kind of deterred the guess that she was a human.

The woman's appearance was hard to describe; at every moment her skin tone changed, cycling through the spectrum of colors that a human's skin pigment could be. Her long, flowing hair did the same, also turning up as shades of green and blue. Leaves and other foliage were not only in her hair, but were a part of it, a part of her. At some angles her skin looked almost craggy like rock faces, and at others it was almost clear, like water. Vines and rocks covered her body, not as outer "clothing", but as a physical part of her. Her eyes were something to behold, having the same appearance that Primus' did, a glowing silver, but underlying the silver were ever-shifting shades of color, moving too quickly to be easily pinpointed.

"I treat my creations well," Primus said, a look of true anger swimming in his optics. He loved his creations dearly and would not accept accusations otherwise made by anyone, even his little sister.

"You're holding out on them," the woman, Gaia, retorted. "You're obviously not telling them everything, and you all know it."

"Gaia, you know I cannot tell them everything; Father would not allow it, and I myself would not disclose information that I knew they should not know as of yet." Primus looked at the woman almost reproachfully.

"Brother, you're being cruel to them," Gaia responded, glaring at Primus.

"He has done nothing of the sort!" Prowl called out valiantly. He would not stand by idly while this, this _human woman_ insulted their god! "If anything, Primus has been kind to us, telling us more than was necessary. He could have chosen not to speak with us at all, but he decided to come to us and assist us in our efforts."

The woman studied the tactician for a moment before a broad grin stretched her face. "It's sweet, how loyal you are. You're much too sweet to be one of my brother's creations." Prowl sputtered, at a loss as to what he should say. Gaia smiled at this.

"You still don't know who I am, do you? I am Gaia, Primus' 'younger sister', one could say. I am Earth, the same way that Primus is Cybertron. I am the planet and its essence. I would say that you should be afraid of me, but you've all been very nice to my planet and my people during your stay on Earth, so I think I'll allow your little transgressions to pass."

Prowl and the rest of the Autobots were unsure as to what their exact transgressions had been, but they nodded solemnly as if they had just been done a great favor.

Primus released air from his vents. "Gaia, you have no reason to be here other than to bother me. We are discussing some truly important matters at the moment; whatever it is you want to tell me about, you could just as well do it at a later time."

Gaia slanted a look at her brother. "There's no need to be so rude to me. I could always go to Daddy about this."

Primus' optics turned upwards, in the direction of "Daddy".

"Gaia," he uttered exasperatedly, "You cannot always insist on bringing Father into these arguments."

The odd woman sniffed. "Maybe you shouldn't be so mean to your creations, then."

"I was not being 'mean'; I was refraining from telling them information that Father and myself have forbidden me from saying. Now, if you would kindly excuse us, we have a conversation to finish that does not involve you or necessitate your presence."

Gaia stared at her brother for a long moment, and the Autobots were sure she was going to slap their god. Instead, she shrugged.

"Fine, but Daddy will be hearing about this!" She turned to the Autobots and smiled sweetly in an oddly maternal fashion. "If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Really, it won't be any trouble at all; just call my name and I'll be there. Poor babies, you need someone to look after you if my ass of a brother won't. Bye now!"

With that, Gaia was gone in a blur of blue and green. The Autobots were stunned and confused. Primus shook his helm exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he muttered, sounding more than a tad bit embarrassed.

Prime nodded numbly, because it was the only thing he could think to do in his stupor. He was doing a lot of nodding lately. For some reason, he could talk in front of huge crowds of mechs and femmes, but in front of his god, he was mute, while Ironhide just couldn't hold his glossa. How was that for irony?

"Um, interlude aside, can we get back to our serious conversation?" Shockingly, First Aid was the one to ask. All turned to stare at him. Why did they always stare when he spoke? He wasn't _that_ quiet; it wasn't like he was mute. All he wanted was to get back on subject. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about the huge, serious situation they were involved in, and none were remembering the solemn affair.

Primus straightened, feeling slightly embarrassed for having forgotten about poor Echo and Silverstrike in the wake of his younger sister's interruption. "Ah, yes, where were we?"

"You were laughing your aft off at us." Jazz spoke with firm sincerity. Primus nodded, rubbing his helm in a very human manner. His sister had a tendency to rub off on him; right after her visits he always found himself acting more like Gaia and her creations.

"Yes, I do apologize for that. I was not laughing at you, per se, but your expressions were somewhat amusing. I believe you were asking questions as to why Echo is still on the _Ark_?" At the nods he received, he continued.

"As I've told you previously, I cannot explain everything to you, but I can tell you this: Echo never left the _Ark_, and I am not just referring to his spirit. The lifeless shell of the Decepticon Echo still resides on the _Ark_, and is one of multiple reasons why he remains on your ship. To remove Echo from the Between, you must remove his body from the _Ark_ and give him the closure that he and the Decepticons crave."

Ironhide had everything planned out. "Okay, so we find the kid's body and send it to the 'Cons, and our ghost problem is solved." He nodded, because if you nod at the end of a statement, it becomes fact. "So where's the body?"

Primus' faceplates held a small, fond grin for the weapons specialist. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you where Echo's remains are; it would be direct interference. All I can say is that he is tied to his corpse."

Bumblebee had not forgotten his earlier plea; he looked to Primus again with hope. "Sir, if we find Echo's body, would you bring him back?"

The god looked at the small yellow 'Bot and smiled warmly, but said nothing on the subject. He turned to the group as a whole and said, "I believe it is time that I send you back, my creations. Farewell, and I wish you luck in your endeavors. I may be seeing you again."

The Autobots' optics turned black as they all lost consciousness once again.

Primus looked forlornly at the place around him, his inner sanctum, his place of solitude and peace. He truly loved the idea of bringing Echo back to life, just as he loved the idea of having Echo back with him. In the end, it would be up to the red mech in question. He just hoped that the Autobots could understand his hints and find the Decepticon's body soon. Echo was standing on the ledge between his small remaining amount of sanity and the abyss of his growing madness. Vorns of being trapped with his abuser – Primus was saddened that he had to think of Silverstrike as such – had carved away at his processor, at his very being. A terrible loneliness filled Echo, and Primus could only stand by and watch as the mech turned toward his mania for comfort. After all, one does not need to deal with their sorrows if they aren't lucid enough to notice them.

Taking one last look at his creations on the _Ark_, those of whom he had just spoken with were rubbing their helms as they awoke groggily on the ship's floor, and he left his realm of peace in favor of facing the horrors of the universe. The first item on his godly agenda: to deal with his infernal sister who had a certain knack for interrupting important meetings.

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**The interlude with Gaia came out...odd, but I wanted to lighten things up a bit; it was getting very serious. I always laughed at the idea of Gaia (from Greek mythology, for those of you who don't know; she symbolizes Earth and is sometimes said to be the Earth, and she's the mother of the Titans and all creatures) and Primus being siblings who bicker a lot. Optimus did not speak much, but he was kind of star struck, in his defense. Shock, if you will.**

**I have been debating very much over if Echo should be returned to life. I have been talking with some of the readers on the subject; some say to bring him back, some say to bring him back temporarily so he can give closure to the Decepticons before sending him on, some say to send him directly on to the Matrix. I believe I have an idea to appease everybody (including myself), but I'm open to everyone's suggestions on the subject (or any subject, for that matter). So, what's your take on it?**

**Leaving a review would be much appreciated.**


	6. Victim

**I know this is late, but it's long, so be happy! I know Bumblebee is always nice, but I think this may lay it on a bit thick, if only because I feel bad for making be a jerk of late in my fic ****Seeking Sanity****. Forgive me if I missed/messed up any line breaks, and tell me if I did.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Transformer or any of its characters; I do own Echo, Silverstrike, and anyone you don't know.**

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Bumblebee awoke with a groan. It was a little exhausting, traveling out of your body to meet with your god. Around him, everyone else was waking in a way that was reminiscent of when they were waking from their trip to the Between.

Prowl, never one to sit and laze about, even after being involuntarily offlined, was already standing and thinking aloud, trying to formulate a plan of action.

"Obviously, as Primus himself stated, Echo's corpse is still located on the _Ark_." Bumblebee couldn't help but shudder at the idea of his friend's corpse.

"Thus, we must find a way to locate such a thing." A pointed look was sent at Wheeljack. The inventor looked back sheepishly, also not comfortable with tracking down a deactivated chassis.

Wheeljack began, "Um, that's not really an easy thing to do, considering that there's not even residual spark energy left in his, er, chassis after all of this time, and we can't really try to use one of those human metal detectors, because he's metal, and the floor and walls and ship are metal..."

Ratchet interrupted, "What he's trying to say is that there's no conventional means to scan for a lifeless body. Even humans can sometimes train canines to sniff out corpses, but even if one could be found, it's highly unlikely that they would be able to differentiate between live and deceased Cybertronians."

"So there's no way to find Echo's body without ripping up the whole ship," Ironhide stated bluntly.

Prowl was aghast at the very idea. "Which is most definitely _not_ happening!"

Prime released air from his vents. "I must agree with Prowl. We cannot take apart the _Ark_ looking for Echo, and it seems that we are then left without a solution. As much as it pains me to say it, we must put this endeavor on hold for an indeterminable amount of time at the moment, unless another idea is found."

Bumblebee could not believe what he was hearing. "Excuse me? Your _god_ just told you that a poor trapped spark _needs your help_ and you're all just going to let him fester there?" He was horrified by the sad, guilty looks he was receiving. "What is _wrong_ with all of you? We are the Autobots; we did this to Echo, we should be the ones to fix it!"

"Technically, Silverstrike was the one to hurt Echo," Prowl pointed out.

"And he was an Autobot commander! Are you really telling me that you won't help him because it might be a little hard, because you might have to put some work into it?"

"Bumblebee," Optimus sighed. "There's nothing we can do. We don't even know where to start looking."

Bee had an idea. "We could go back to the Between with Wheeljack's chemical and ask Echo! He would know where his own body was."

"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Prowl uncharacteristically. "I cannot condone any of you returning to that place; we almost got deactivated the first time, and I won't allow that kind of threat on one of your lives again."

Optimus nodded. "Once again, I agree with Prowl. It's much too dangerous for any return trips to the Between to be made."

"But-"

With a heavy spark, Prime declared, "I'm very sorry, but the subject is closed. Return to your posts, please."

With guilty, defeated visages, the soldiers did so, resigning themselves to letting Echo's insanity take over his CPU.

Bumblebee would not give up on Echo. On his first trip to the Between he had seen the sweet, sad mech that Echo was. There was still some hope left for the Decepticon's spark, if only someone would try to help him!

Then and there, he promised both himself and Echo that he would find a way to help the other, no matter the consequences. Nobody deserved to spend all of eternity with their murderer, Decepticon or not.

All he needed for his plan was some of Wheeljack's serum. The chemical was most likely being stored in the inventor's lab. If he could only get in there without anyone seeing, he would be golden, as the humans would say.

It was a good thing Bee was a member of Special Ops, or he wouldn't have been so good at sneaking into places. With an air of total nonchalance he entered the labs, appearing to only be visiting the inventor. To his pleasant surprise, the lab was empty. Now he just had to find the serum...

He searched the overflowing shelves adorning the lab's walls, but found nothing. The cluttered desks and workspaces held nothing of immediate interest, either. No matter where he looked, he couldn't find that glowing green chemical that looked like something that would give off a lot of toxic radiation.

"What are you looking for, Bee?"

Bumblebee jumped in shock before turning around ever-so-slowly. Skyfire stood behind him, smiling bemusedly.

"Oh, uh, Skyfire! I was, um, looking for this thing, this chemical. Wheeljack asked me to grab it for him."

Skyfire looked at him oddly before grinning in his ever-friendly manner. "I could help you find it. What does it look like?"

Inwardly sighing in relief, Bee mumbled quickly with averted optics, "It's green, and it kind of glows."

The scientist laughed. "Sounds like something 'Jack would make. I'm surprised he would have a chemical; usually he leaves those to Percy, but he does like to dabble with chemistry on occasion. I think I know what you're looking for."

He puttered around, pushing through the same piles of crap that Bee had just been rifling through. Still, he somehow came up with a vile of the substance that Bumblebee had been searching for. How Skyfire did that, he would never know.

"Here you are, Bee." He handed the vile to the minibot, who smiled at him in a manner he prayed wasn't nervous or conspicuous. Thanking the large shuttle, he ducked out of the room and scurried down the hall towards his destination. Luckily, he didn't pass anybody on his jog to the back rooms.

The back rooms were just as cold and lonely as always. It still made him sad to see them like this, especially knowing that Echo was trapped in such a frigid, lifeless area.

If the Decepticon was able to see other parts of the _Ark_, parts where mechs still lived, would his insanity have grown so exponentially? Or would he hate them, the living, for constantly taunting him, reminding him of his state of being, trapped forever in a prison bound by time, hatred, and death?

Soon he reached the torture chamber, the room where Echo had died. With a nervous spark Bee put his hand to the door. He noticed that the edges of the door showed crude weld marks, as if the door had been blasted off and then replaced shoddily, and realized that the door had needed replacement after Astrotrain had literally blown it away in search of his best friend. All of these clues, these little things in the war and on the _Ark_, and they all hinted at Echo and his story. He must have been blind not to see it before.

The door, the way 'Cons accused 'Bots of torture and murder, the way the Constructicons looked at the Autobots with a special, unique kind of hatred. The way that the back rooms had always seemed so gloomy, so dismal and hopeless and lonely – they were reflecting the emotions of their only occupant who cared about the outside world.

Bee keyed in the access code he recalled Prowl using and stepped inside the haunted room.

* * *

A group of mechs had come together in the rec room, by pure chance, of course. They just so happened to be the same mechs that had been involved in the Between, minus Optimus Prime, Perceptor, and First Aid, as well as Bumblebee. None were too happy with their current standstill on the subject, but it would have to do until an alternative method to finding Echo could be found.

"Hey, has anyone seen Bumblebee?" asked Jazz. His young subordinate had been the most affected by all of this; he truly seemed to care for Echo, a ghost he had only met twice, and was the most upset by the Autobots' current decision of inaction.

"Sure," said Skyfire, who had just entered the room for a quick cube of energon. "He was just in Wheeljack's lab, looking for this chemical he said 'Jack sent him to get."

Wheeljack, who was among the assembled mechs, looked up sharply. "I didn't send him to get anything. I haven't even seen him since the...meeting earlier."

Skyfire looked at him in confusion. "Really? Are you sure? It's not like Bee to lie to somebody like that. Besides, I don't know what he would want with a chemical."

Jazz gasped in horror as it all clicked in place. "Sky, what did the chemical look like?"

The shuttle thought for a moment, trying to recall. "It was this weird, green, glowing stuff."

"Primus, that idiot!" exclaimed Ratchet, squeezing his energon cube until it shattered into tiny, uncountable shards. "I am going to reconfigure him into a toaster for this! No, a femme! Even better, a femme toaster!"

Wheeljack wasn't sure what was scarier: Bee trying to enter the Between on his own, or Ratchet creating a gender-specific toaster out of the minibot.

"We need to stop him," Ironhide solemnly declared. With that, the group ran out the door, 'Jack throwing a "Thanks for the info, Sky!" over his shoulder as they went, and Prowl informing the Prime of the new occurrences, as he couldn't stand to ever leave his leader out of the loop. Many a surprise party had been ruined due to this, until Prowl was no longer allowed to know what his mate was planning when it came to surprises and celebrations.

As the group ran, a thought occurred to Wheeljack, one which he voiced aloud. "I really hope he doesn't try to ingest the serum orally."

Ratchet turned to his friend sharply. "Why not?" he questioned in a gruff voice which belied his anxiety for the yellow minibot's safety.

"Because the antidote for the serum only works when the serum has been injected into an energon line. If Bee drinks it, then the counteragent won't work – we wouldn't be able to pull him from the Between."

"He better be careful, the little slagger," Ironhide mumbled, inwardly afraid for the youngling he had primarily raised.

The group noticeably picked up speed. They could only hope that they stopped Bumblebee before it was too late.

* * *

The ex-torture chamber had noticeably lost its feelings of mal-intent. Silverstrike must have been away or asleep, or whatever he did when he wasn't manifesting to injure Echo. The room only held its feelings of sadness, with a calm, almost peaceful undercurrent and the slight prickling sensation that one was being watched. It felt like entering a tomb, which, in a way, it was.

Bee spotted Echo's favorite crate and sat on it as he had the first time he met the ghost.

"Echo?" he called softly. A gentle breeze met his chassis. He giggled. "Um, hi. I know you didn't want me to come back, but I just couldn't leave you here. Besides, Primus even told me so."

If a breeze could feel confused, this one certainly did.

"I'm not kidding; even Primus is involved in all of this. He does care about you, you know. He doesn't want you to suffer."

There was no response.

"I, uh, brought some of Wheeljack's serum. I need to talk to you, for real. I know you think it's dangerous, and it is, but I just want to help you." Not giving Echo a chance to potentially stop him, he opened the vile and knocked back the glowing green chemical.

Ever so slowly, the world began to dim. His optics started to flicker tiredly, fuzzing around the edges. This wasn't at all like the last time. It was just like going into recharge. With that in mind, Bee lay back on the large crate, and fell into recharge.

"Bee," a voice called softly. "Little Bee. Bumblebee."

Bumblebee awoke, for some reason feeling completely, utterly calm and safe. He sat up on the crate and looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice that could have only belonged to Echo. He spied the soft glow of a red optic peeking out from behind a tall stack of boxes and grinned.

"Echo!" he called brightly.

"Hey," the other said weakly, not moving from his place.

Bee frowned. "What's wrong?"

He could almost swear the other was scuffing his pede against the floor, an extremely human gesture of embarrassment.

"I'd really rather you didn't see me right now."

With a jolt and a gasp Bumblebee realized that Echo must have been hurt the last time Silver manifested.

"How bad?" he asked softly, one servo coming up to cover his mouthpiece.

"Real bad."

"Can I – can I see?"

Echo made a soft noise somewhere between a whimper and a sound of discontent before he stepped away from the protection of the crates and into one of those ethereal glows he liked to create.

Bee couldn't hold back his gasp.

Most of Echo's faceplates were missing. Bee had only seen one optic before, not because the other half of Echo's face had been hidden, but because one of his optics had been gouged out by, apparently, Silverstrike's own claws, if the scrapes meant anything.

Atop the old damage to Echo's right side were new, fresh wounds. His right arm was missing, and he limped as he dragged his left pede after him. It was mangled and twisted and could obviously not support weight. Worse still was the gaping hole where Echo's spark should have been. The Decepticon caught Bumblebee staring at this wound.

"Oh, he does that one a lot. Nothing like ripping out someone's spark for all of eternity. It kind of fails, though, 'cause technically we are our own spark's essence here, so it's only a representation of a spark. Doesn't keep it from hurting, though."

Swallowing back his sadness and pity for his friend who he knew would not appreciate it, Bee moved over on the crate and patted it, gesturing for Echo to join him. Echo gave Bee an odd look, and then gave the same look to the crate. He stared for a long moment before coming to sit on the crate next to the minibot.

"What's up?" He did his best to not sound like he was in such horrendous pain. After all, give it a few hundred vorns and one gets used to the feeling.

"I need to know where you body is."

Echo raised his one remaining optic ridge, which happened to be the one above the empty socket. It was more than a little creepy. "Excuse me?"

"Primus said that we could help you get out of here by removing your body from the _Ark_. The thing is, nobody thinks we can help because we have no way of finding your body. I know you must know where it is, so I need you to tell me."

Echo watched Bee carefully. He muttered to himself, "Odd...I thought you knew...with the way you... Never mind. I can't tell you directly. I'm physically incapable of doing so. Don't ask me why, 'cause I don't know. I swear it's some sort of device to make things more dramatic for Primus and his buddies."

Bee shook his head. "Primus has the same 'Don't tell' policy on himself. And I'm pretty sure his only buddy is his little sister."

The Decepticon, who believed that Bumblebee had been joking about Primus earlier, shook his head and laughed. "You're starting to sound like me, Little Bee."

The minibot also chuckled. "At least I haven't started quoting human commercials yet."

"Alas, there is hope for you yet!" For some reason the two found this to be absolutely hilarious and broke into fresh peals of laughter.

When their laughter subsided, Bee said, "I really do want to help you. I know you can't tell me where your body is, but could you, you know, hint at it or something?"

Echo thought about this. "Dunno, AT always said I was total slag when it came to giving hints."

The pair sat silent for a few moments. Suddenly, the shadows of the room began to distort. Bee gasped. "Is it-?" He couldn't bring himself to say the horrid mech's name.

"Nope!" Echo replied, popping the "p" of the word. "This is what it looks like when someone enters the room in the living world. See how everything sort of ripples?"

It was like a fog or mist was hanging in the room, and through the mist Bumblebee could make out a few shapes. A sound came through the room, a strangled cry of anguish.

_"Bumblebee!"_

_"Is he alive?"_

_"He's still with us, but he used the serum, slag it!"_

_"The counteragent won't work!"_

_"Frag kid, come on, wake up!"_

Bee felt terrible that he was worrying his friends so much. He turned to Echo. "Is there any way that I could tell them that I'm alright?"

Echo was shaking, trembling. He lifted a servo and pointed. "But you're not alright."

All of the commotion had awoken the Between's other resident. The shadows congealed, quicker than the last time, and soon formed a tall silver mech, the aptly named Silverstrike.

He had bright blue optics that were more malicious than those of any Decepticon Bee had ever seen, Megatron included. He practically radiated hatred and loathing. Vicious, energon covered spikes protrude from his forearms, shoulder, and legs – and the energon covering them wasn't his own. The mech opened his mouth to speak, revealing wicked canines.

Echo whimpered in fear.

"Well, well, well, it seems you've brought a _friend_, did you not, cretin?" grated the sharp, deep voice, cutting like knives into the peace that the Between had once held. Echo shook in terror. "Who is he, a new _playmate_ for us?"

Echo tried to be brave, for Bumblebee, for the only mech that had shown him any kindness in oh-so-long.

"You can't touch him," he said. "He's an Autobot, and he's not, nor was he ever, under your command. You cannot punish him; he's one of Prime's own." Echo could only hope that this would appeal to Silverstrike's twisted sense of decorum and faction-loyalty.

"Ah, but he came to visit us, did he not? He chose to come here; he must have wanted to play."

Echo shuddered, but continued. "He never did anything to you. I'm the one who put you here, not him."

Silverstrike's optics flared at the mention of his imprisonment, but he didn't take the bait. "Don't you see his comrades? He left them to come here. This is my place, and he came of his own volition. He's mine to use as I please. Besides, you are starting to bore me as a victim. You just don't scream the way you used to, the way a fresh one would." He suddenly appeared before the pair, optics flashing in delight when both let out screams of terror.

The ex-commander looked at the cowering Echo appraisingly. "I think I'm done with you, now that I have someone new to play with."

"Y-you can't kill me, it's impossible! I'll j-just heal afterwards!"

"Oh, little filth, did it never occur to you that I was allowing you to continue existing because I would otherwise be left bored and unoccupied? I could have disposed of you whenever I felt like it. And I feel like it now." Silverstrike grabbed Echo by his severed stub of an arm and tossed him across the room. Bee shouted after his friend as he landed in a motionless heap on the floor. He tried to stand, but was shoved back down by the evil commander.

"None of that now. I'll finish him later. For now, let's see how well you scream."

A blade sprung from the underside of the mech's wrist, and he brought it to Bumblebee's chassis.

* * *

The Autobots could only watch in horror as something started to carve into Bumblebee's armor. The feeling of evil had returned to the room. Silverstrike was there, and he was hurting their little minibot.

"You bastard, let him go!" Ironhide shouted at the room. He hated that he could only watch helplessly as Bee's faceplates contorted in pain, but remained slack and unconscious. Never before had he encountered a threat he couldn't just blow up.

Optimus Prime burst into the room. He heard a scraping noise and saw it was coming from the unconscious Bumblebee's chassis, where little swirls and symbols were being drawn by an invisible stylus, bringing up thin lines of energon. Prowl quickly filled him in on the situation.

"Are you saying we can't do anything?" he demanded loudly. He couldn't just watch as the only remaining youngling was killed.

It was ironic, he thought offhandedly, that Silverstrike was trying to take the Autobots' last youngling from them, just as he'd taken the Decepticons' so long ago.

A shriek of metal came from the corner of the room, the same sound the group had heard when Echo carved into the ceiling. A few of them, Prime included, rushed to see what the noise was, while the others kept watch over Bumblebee, fixated on the horrific acts occurring in front of them.

In the room, a thinly, feebly carved message awaited the group.

**PRIME – ORDER HIM TO STOP!**

Optimus could only stare. "I don't understand!"

Almost wearily, the carving started again.

**ORDER HIM TO STOP! YOU ARE HIS COMMANDING OFFICER – HE IS BOUND TO LISTEN TO YOU. ORDER HIM TO STOP!**

Prime realized that "he" must be Silverstrike. And to think that Prime had trusted that fragger who was now carving up sweet, innocent little Bumblebee. It made his energon curdle.

Mustering up as much of a commanding tone as he could, the leader shouted, "Silverstrike! It is I, Optimus Prime! By my power as your Prime, I demand that you stop harming the Autobot Bumblebee this instant!"

The carving in Bumblebee's chassis paused before continuing.

"Silverstrike! I am ordering you as the leader of the Autobots to cease and desist, NOW!"

The etching continued. In a fit of genius, a new idea came to Optimus.

"If you do not comply, I will be forced to strip you of your rank and your status as a commander and as an Autobot!"

The carving stopped immediately. Bumblebee's offline form shuddered in pain. It was up to Bee now to come back to them.

* * *

Bee was almost shocked at the tone Optimus used. It echoed through the room, reverberating off of the walls. Silverstrike had a manic, almost scared look to his optics.

"He wouldn't. He wouldn't! I'm the best commander the Autobots have ever seen! He wouldn't dare to strip me of my rank!"

The Autobots were all Silverstrike had, Bee realized. Without them, he was another cruel tyrant with nobody to be tyrannical over. Even if he no longer commanded them, in his mind, he did. In Silverstrike's mind, he would always be the commander of the _Ark_. To have that taken from him would kill him, even if he was evil.

In the corner, Echo turned from his own carving and smiled feebly, but triumphantly. "Go," he murmured. "Go now."

Bumblebee nodded, before he remembered the reason for his coming there. "But wait – where's your body?"

Echo thought for a moment. "Sometimes, I feel crushed by this place." He looked at Bumblebee meaningfully, and again stared at the crate.

Silverstrike was still mumbling to himself.

"Go!" intoned the Decepticon.

Bumblebee waved goodbye and offlined his optics, imagining his friends around him, shouting at him for being stupid.

* * *

With great relief the Autobots watched Bumblebee online. The scout looked down at his own chassis, carved and scraped and dripping energon, and stood abruptly. "I think I know where Echo is!"

Ratchet, who was just gearing up his threats, was waylaid by this.

"Um, what?" said Jazz.

Bumblebee had already turned and moved back to where the group had found him, the crate where he was laying. "Come help me!" he called to them.

The minibot pulled at the edges of the crate, trying to pry it open. Ironhide shook his head in confusion, but helped him. With a loud and dusty "Crack!" the top of the crate popped off to reveal...a bunch of junk. It was nothing but a crate of junk! Unusable scrap metal, old, empty energon cubes, some old, dried out paint. Who knew the Autobots were such packrats, as the humans would say?

Bee shook his head. "No, no, this was it, I'm sure! He was looking right at it!" A thought struck him. "Crushed by this place...and he was staring at the crate...he feels crushed by the crate? ... He feels crushed by the crate! Quick, help me move this!"

The evil feeling in the air was subdued, but it stirred lightly. They had to move quickly. Obliging the scout's request simply so he would leave soon, the Autobots helped him to move the crate. Dust blew up around them, clogging their intakes. When it cleared, Bee was already on the ground, brushing dust out of the way.

"Here!" he called. Sure enough, there was a thin weld line in the floor. Ironhide powered up his cannon, ready to blast it.

"Wait!" Wheeljack called. "These floors are reinforced – cannons won't pierce them."

"This might." Ratchet knelt next to Bumblebee and pulled out a laser scalpel. He turned it on and traced the outline of a rectangle welded into the floor. After, the group waited in anticipation for the charred, malleable metal to cool enough for the edges to be lifted.

Bee looked at Ironhide for assistance once again. Together with Prime and Prowl, they were able to lift away the heavy piece of sheeting. There were audible gasps at what they uncovered.

Covered in dust and dents and scrapes were the mangled, broken, grayed out remains of the Decepticon youngling Echo.

In the background, a furious roar moved through the room before being silenced forever.

* * *

**So, did you like it? Only one chapter left, an epilogue that I should have up soon. Sorry for what I did to Bee, but I had to.**

**Please review!**


	7. Reunion

**This is the last part of our tale, fair readers. I've loved all of the attention and reactions this story has received, and I can't thank you all enough.**

**Megatron is alive here though I only follow the '07 movie because I said so, so there! He's revived, and it doesn't matter how, 'cause that's not really relevant to the story. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Transformers or its characters, but I do own Echo, Silverstrike, and anyone else you don't recognize.**

* * *

Bee stood with the rest of the Autobots in the large field, all awaiting the arrival of the Decepticons. Most of the Autobots weren't aware of Echo and his story and were quite confused as to why they had been called to stand in a field and _wait for their sworn enemies to show up_. Many of them were loudly vocalizing how insane the idea was, i.e. the twins and the minibots.

The yellow scout was in sad spirits. He may have succeeded in saving Echo from the Between, but now the weight of the truth had fully settled on him: Echo was really dead and he would never get to see him again. Sure, he shouldn't have been able to meet him in the first place, had all gone correctly, but things hadn't gone the way they were supposed to for Echo and for Bee. By a twist of fate these younglings from different times had met and had become friends, and it killed Bumblebee inside to know that his friend was well and truly dead and wasn't coming back.

Echo's body had been removed from the back rooms and moved to the medbay, where it had lain under a tarp, blocked from view, until the meeting could be arranged. Now that Silverstrike and Echo both seemed to have been gone for good, Optimus Prime wanted to attempt to right past wrongs by returning Echo's body to the Decepticons, and required that all of his troops be present as a sign of respect, and in case the Decepticons got angry and attacked.

The newly revived Megatron had been extremely confused and rather annoyed when Prime had contacted him. It wasn't often that the two spoke out of battle, and that was usually only to discuss prisoner trades and when Prime occasionally tried to negotiate a treaty of sorts, which wasn't often because it never worked. Prime hoped, though, that the return of Echo's corpse, having been the true start of the war, might be the beginning of its end.

The Decepticons were very confused that the Autobots requested that the entire _Nemesis_ be present in an open field, especially because they refused to give a reason why. As expected, they assumed it was a trap and that the Autobots somehow intended to destroy them all. Because of this, Prime invited them to bring weapons if it made them feel safer, but he specifically requested that Megatron, the Constructicons, and Astrotrain be present. That was what lead to a group of very bemused Decepticons trudging through a muddy field to meet their enemies for Primus-knew-what reason.

Megatron, who frankly just didn't want to be there, was not in the best of moods. Only his curiosity had dragged him out to the meeting.

"What do you want, Prime?" he snarled like "Prime" was a dirty word, which it basically was in his mind.

Optimus, miserable at the state Echo had been found in and the knowledge that an Autobot under his command had caused it, was not up to verbal sparring that day.

"Megatron and all of the Decepticons," he began grandly yet sorrowfully. "We have greatly wronged you in the past."

"Tell me about it," snorted Starscream, earning a few snickers from the other 'Cons. A look from Megatron silenced him, but just barely.

Continuing with aplomb, Optimus said in a remorseful tone, "It only recently came to my attention that long ago we took from you your youngest soldier in, as the humans would say, cold blood. We recently found him, and would like to return him to you with our utmost respect and sincere apologies, and we can only hope that this wrong can be forgiven someday."

Most of the Autobots were shocked at what they were hearing, but looks from their officers silenced them. Some of the Decepticons, the newer soldiers, were confused. The older ones, however, were in shock.

Astrotrain didn't know if he should scream or cry or attack or sob in relief. They'd found him? They had found Echs? But then, they said he was taken in "cold blood." He felt like breaking down at that. They had known that Echo was dead, but hearing it for real, it was sparkbreaking. He leaned against Blitzwing as his optics filled with cleaning fluid.

The Constructicons were beside themselves with grief, but they did a good job of not showing it. All of these old wounds came bursting open. One never really got over losing a creation, adopted or not, and it had never stopped hurting to know that theirs was gone. But now, being reminded of it all again was almost too much for them.

Megatron held himself proudly as always, refusing to show just how much Prime's words had affected him. He would never give the pathetic Autobots the pleasure of seeing him lose his composure. Besides, he had to stay strong for his troops. That didn't make it hurt any less, though.

"What are you talking about?" he asked redundantly. His optics narrowed at how strangled and hissed his voice sounded.

"You know what I'm talking about, Megatron," Optimus said tiredly. "I can't describe how sorry I am that I was never aware how opposite the Autobot beliefs the _Ark_'s original commander was."

More quickly silenced outbursts came from the Autobot ranks. The Decepticons could only watch as Prime gestured Ironhide forward from where he had been standing at the back of the Autobots, holding a tarp-covered object in his arms. He walked to the invisible line that seemed to separate the two factions and placed his wrapped package on the ground with as much respect as he could, keeping his optics averted and doing his best to be non-aggressive in his posture.

The Decepticons could only stare at the parcel of sorts, some of them already understanding what it was. It was Scavenger of all of them who dredged up the courage to part from the rest of the faction and come forward. He knelt next to the wrapped object and, with shaking servos, carefully pulled back the tarp. Though he knew what to expect, nothing could have prepared him for the twisted, mauled corpse of his sparkling. He brought a servo to his mouth and let out a dry sob, reaching out with the other servo to draw it along the jaw line of the deceased youngling.

The rest of the Constructicons surged forward, surrounding their brother and their adopted creation. Slowly, Astrotrain too stepped forward, optics widening at the sight of his best friend, broken and mangled, but still just as young as he had been when he was captured.

For some reason it really hit home then, that Echo was dead and would never age, would never truly reach adulthood and bond and have a family, would never prank with him again or play cannon tag with him again or ride around on his shoulder while shouting at mech's below him and acting like a posh monarch. Echo was gone, for good.

He felt Blitzwing place a servo on his shoulder as a tear of cleaning fluid rolled down his faceplates. It was quickly brushed away, but it didn't go unnoticed by others.

Bumblebee watched the proceedings with teary optics of his own. Only a tap on his shoulder drew him from staring at the sparkbreaking scene in front of him.

He would have screamed if the other hadn't shushed him so much. It was actually a little funny to watch the short red mech wave his arms around like that, trying to keep him quiet.

"Shh! They can't see or hear me! If you start shouting they're going to think you're as crazy as I am! Plus it would be considered majorly disrespectful. Still, don't talk, just listen."

Bee wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Gawking worked for him.

Echo grinned at the minibot. It wasn't his manic grin, or a sad, defeated one, but a true honest-to-goodness smile that reached and filled his bright red optics. His chassis was in pristine condition. Bee would have thought him alive if only for the fact that the sun didn't reflect off his chassis and he cast no shadow.

"You were right, you know. About Primus. He really does care." Bee nodded, still staring at the beatific grin.

"I wanted to thank you. You wouldn't believe how good it feels, to get out of there, to see the world. I feel like I'm almost alive again." He laughed, a bright, chipper sound full of happiness.

"Thank you so much for all you've done, all the risks you and your friends took for me. You can never understand just how much you've done for me, or how much it means to me, Little Bee. Just know that I'll always be in your debt for this, if you need me. Remember that, Little Bee." He winked at him as if he had some secret. The smile never left his face.

Echo looked at the Decepticons gathered around his body. "They needed this. I mean, they knew I was gone, but this really brings them closure. Just, thank you for this. Thank you so much."

Bee nodded again, a grin lighting his own features.

"Silverstrike's gone now. As soon as you uncovered my body, he just – poof!" Echo pantomimed this in a laugh-worthy way. "The back rooms are safe now. I know that nobody's there anymore, but it would be nice if you did something with them. If you haven't noticed, they're kinda full of crap. You could make them into more quarters, or make that bigger blasting range that guy Ironaft was ranting about." At Bee's look, he added, "I took to wandering the _Ark_ last night. I wanted to be around people again, and to see what the crew was like. They're nothing like what I expected. Not evil at all! A little mischievous, yes, but the _Nemesis_ has its pranksters too. Pit, I was one of them! Can't believe they even had to make a war from all of this. The factions aren't that different. After spending a while watching you guys, I don't think I could imagine shooting at you again. Putting a face on the enemy, you know?"

Bumblebee grinned broadly at the babbling. He had never seen this side of Echo before, this carefree, almost bubbly side that just couldn't stop smiling or talking. It was like someone had replaced Echo with Bluestreak. Bee could only guess that this was similar to how Echo used to behave, before he was trapped in the Between.

Long Haul was gathering Echo into his arms, his brothers and Astrotrain surrounding him. As a group they turned to return to the _Nemesis_, not waiting for the command from Megatron. At the moment, the grieving Lord High Protector wasn't going to stop them.

He looked at Prime and said in that same, strangled voice something he thought he never would. "Thank...thank you, Prime." He nodded at the Autobots once, turned on his heel with his head held high as always, and ordered his men with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, "Decepticons, return to the _Nemesis_!"

Megatron didn't even make sure he wasn't going to be shot at from behind, though Starscream did. To Optimus, it was a victory. As soon as the Decepticons began to depart, the Autobots burst into confused chatter. Prime allowed it, not bothering to stop them. All would be explained back on the _Ark_. He called for their return home.

Echo turned to Bee. "Looks like it's time to go, Little Bee." Bumblebee nodded, wishing he could talk to his friend. Echo chuckled. "Don't be sad; we might see each other again some day."

With that the red mech darted forward and wrapped his arms around the yellow scout in a quick but sparkfelt embrace. "Be good, Little Bee," he whispered in the other's audio. "No more getting yourself killed, got it?" Bumblebee nodded mutely. Echo grinned again.

"Gotta go, Little Bee. Seeya!" He saluted the other jauntily and waved. Bee waved back feebly, not caring how insane he looked.

Echo turned on his heel just as Megatron had and broke into a jog, disappearing as if he had turned to mist.

Bumblebee tried to bring himself to feel sad, but couldn't. It was as if all of his sadness had evaporated, leaving behind a happy, light feeling. He would see Echo again. He was sure of it.

* * *

The Decepticons returned to their base with heavy sparks. The Constructicons took Echo back to the medbay. They would repair him as best they could with his state for his proper internment into the Decepticon's memorial to fallen soldiers. The 'Cons weren't as sparkless as everyone thought.

The Constructicons couldn't stop staring at Echo's corpse. They shouldn't even have to say that word, "corpse." Their sparkling shouldn't be dead, but he was. They had accepted it long ago, but it was made real here.

They fixed him as well as they could, until the only thing that showed his deactivated state was the irremovable grey color. With love they placed him on a berth for the night, but couldn't bring themselves to return to their quarters to recharge because it meant leaving Echo's body. In the end, the decided to recharge there on the floor of the medbay, with sad, aching sparks.

The next morning, Bonecrusher was confused to feel a weight resting on his chassis. He onlined his optics, preparing to remind Scavenger that he didn't cuddle in public places where people could see him, only to let out an almost femme-like scream.

Red optics shuttered at him, but the slag-eating grin didn't go away. "Miss me?" asked the deep red mech lying on his chassis.

Bonecrusher could only stutter like Mixmaster.

"Y-you...h-how c-could you..."

"Use your words, 'Crusher."

That made the bulldozer laugh loudly, in equal parts mirth and a kind of joy that was rarely associated with him. It was loud enough to wake his brothers from their recharge.

"What's going on?" Scavenger asked sleepily, shuttering his optics rapidly to wake himself up.

"'Crusher's being weird again," mumbled Long Haul, pressing his face further into Hook's side.

Scrapper hadn't even woken up from where he was cuddling Mixmaster. The cement mixer just patted him on the helm.

"Aw, I'm not worth waking up for? Wish I could turn up the lights; where's my damn glowy thing when I need it?"

That voice had them all waking pretty quickly.

When Astrotrain entered the medbay, wanting to give a private goodbye to his best friend, he was greeted with a Constructicon cuddle pile. Constructicons plus one, that is.

"What...?" He offlined his optics multiple times to be sure what he was seeing was real.

"Hey AT! Get in on this love fest, you behemoth! These things don't come around often, you know!"

For Astrotrain, the universe that had been off-kilter for so long righted itself in that moment. Everything was the way it should be.

He grinned like a loon and took a running jump, neither he nor the Constructicons caring about how much that might hurt when he landed. The exclamation that left his glossa expressed all of his happiness.

"Echo!"

* * *

**I like this ending. You can decide what happens next: if Echo is back for good or just visiting.**

**Thank you to everyone who alerted, favorited, reviewed or read this story. It means the world to me. Please leave a review!**

**Seeya!**

**~Carlough**

**6/9/10 - I have posted a continuation one shot of this called "Bright Futures," and you can probably expect more from this 'verse in the future.**


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